Not a Dream
by Araesson's Storm
Summary: Alexandrite Potter, or rather, Haven Winchester, only desires to become a Hunter and protect her new brothers when the Winchesters take her in after she's left to die by the Dursleys. It's an easy enough goal, except when you happen to be a famous witch that combines the Potter luck and Winchester luck into one adorable green-eyed package. Fem!Harry, slash
1. Chapter 1: This Is Not A Dream

**Welcome, you brave human beings, to my story! I wish you all happy reading.**

 **I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter. They belong to their respective owners, all I'm doing is using their work to improve my writing and kill all of your feels.**

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 **Chapter 1: This Is Not a Dream**

Alexandrite Haven Potter didn't think she was much of anything. She was small for a girl of six years old, all bones and much to thin limbs. Her raven black hair was constantly a mess no matter what she did in an attempt to fix it on her own, not that anyone in her 'family' would ever help her in this endeavor. Her emerald green eyes stood out on a thin, pale face. All the clothes she wore were several sizes too big, as all of the clothes she owned had once belonged to her cousin, Dudley.

She hated everything about herself, including her name. The only thing of note on her entire person was the peculiar scar on her forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

It was the winter of 1986, and it was swiftly decided that the Dursleys would go on a vacation. Alexandrite was shocked to find that she would be accompanying them to the U.S.A. It didn't matter that Dudley pitched a pit upon discovering this, or that she had nothing much to pack. Anything was better than Number 4 Privet Drive, no matter where it was or who she was with.

Alexandrite slept through the plane trip and the drive that came afterwards. They were taken to a hotel, where she slept on the floor. The next day saw her following the Dursleys through the city, being sure to keep some distance away from them.

She was only mildly concerned when she lost track of them, too busy taking in all of the sights that New York City had to offer. It was nothing like the house.

It was exciting for a time, at least. When it began getting dark, and her stomach began complaining of hunger, everything lost its appeal. She hadn't seen the Dursleys in hours, and had no clue where she might find them again.

At least a week passed- she was shaky on the time involved, as later she couldn't much recall the time she spent scavenging for food and hiding from everyone. Her hunger was stronger than she remembered it being, making her body weak and shaky. Something else had happened, but she couldn't recall what. There was just a dull ache where the memory should be, and an unfocused fear.

On the final day, the one she remembered with clarity, she suddenly got the feeling she was being watched. The little girl stopped to look around, finding nothing. She frowned, her senses on high alert. Everything was still- too still.

The silence was broken as a man came barrelling into the alley she occupied. He caught sight of her, a gun held in his hands. "You have to get out of here. Now!"

She didn't stop to question the order, running out of the alley. Adrenaline filled the holes that starvation and exhaustion had left, allowing her to quickly distance herself from the man, finding a trashcan to hide behind and ducking down. Her breath came in gasps, her body feeling exhausted. She was weak and dizzy, feeling like she was going to throw up or fall over, unable to stand again.

A gunshot. Alexandrite held her breath.

At last, the man approached her with a serious expression, the gun pointed to the ground near his feet. They regarded each other for several long moments.

"Kid, where are your parents?" the man finally asked.

"They're dead." she answered.

The man frowned, "Who takes care of you, then?"

"No one."

After all, when had the Dursleys ever taken care of her. They'd probably returned to Privet Drive, forgetting all about her. They would celebrate her disappearance.

The man sighed, looking conflicted, before at last saying, "Come on. We have to get you somewhere safe. What's your name?"

She frowned, considering the question as she followed him. She hated Alexandrite. Her aunt had always said it as if the word was something dirty. She didn't want to keep it. Alexandrite was an orphan, the freak.

This could be a new start. She didn't have to be Alexandrite anymore. She could be something new, something better.

"Haven." she finally said, using her middle name to craft her new start. The man sighed again, looking down at her.

"I'm John, John Winchester. I'm going to take you to the hotel, and leave you with my boys for a few nights until we figure out what to do with you." John Winchester said, pulling out his keys and opening the door of a car. She shrugged indifferently, instead turning to inspect the vehicle before her. She immediately took a liking to it.

Haven, at the man's prompting, climbed into the car, a smile making it's way onto her face. She imagined the car as a protective mother that would allow nothing to hurt her. She fell asleep, waking up again when they arrived.

They walked into a room that smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. A little boy around her age was waiting by the door, jumping to his feet the instant the door opened.

"Dad!" the boy exclaimed, coming to a stop when he noticed Haven, "Who is she?"

"This is Haven." John Winchester said, "She doesn't have a home. I found her during work today. Can you and Sammy look after her for a few days while I finish up here?"

The boy nodded eagerly, obviously wanting to please his father.

"Thank you, Dean. I have to go back to work, but I should be back in a few days." John said, giving the boy, Dean, a hug before he left.

With him gone, Dean turned to Haven, his green eyes holding only curiosity, "Hi. I'm Dean. How old are you?"

"Six." she informed him, proud of every year. She wasn't a baby anymore, even if she looked like it.

"Well, I'm seven, and my little brother Sammy is three." Dean told her. Her eyes widened- seven? Seven was old. "Sam's sleeping. Are you hungry?"

She nodded. The day's excitement had distracted her, but now that he mentioned it she remembered that she hadn't eaten properly in more than a week. Soon, the pair were both sitting over bowls of cereal, discussing whatever came to mind. Dean was filled to the brim with questions- Why is your voice funny? How'd you get that scar? Where are you from? Do you have any brothers? How did you get here?

Haven made quick work of her cereal despite the discussion. She shoved the empty bowl away with a huge yawn, fighting to keep her eyes open through a wave of exhaustion. Dean seemed used to picking up such signs, and asked if she needed any pajamas to sleep in. She nodded tiredly, and soon Dean was shoving a tee-shirt and sweatpants into her hands, directing her to the bathroom. They were still large on her, but they fit better than anything else she'd ever worn.

Soon, Dean was tucking her into a creaky old bed, saying, "Goodnight, Haven."

She fell asleep, her mind occupied by how nice Dean was. She'd never been taken care of like that in her memory. If she hadn't been so exhausted, she would have pondered it for hours.

Haven woke up the next morning with a yawn. Dean was busy pouring a glass of juice in the small kitchen. A little boy with big hazel eyes clutched onto Dean's shirt with one of his tiny hands.

"Good morning," she greeted, standing up and stretching.

"Good morning. Say good morning, Sammy." Dean replied, nudging his attachment.

They little boy met her eyes for a quick moment, before looking down at his shoes and leaning closer to his brother, "Good morning."

Haven smiled, finding the small, shy boy adorable. Sam buried himself into his brother's side.

"Do you want something to drink? Dean asked, setting down the jug of juice and handing Sammy the full cup. She nodded, accepting her own cup with a quiet thanks.

Haven looked around the dingy kitchen, wondering what she could do in return for all of the kindness she'd been shown. Her eyes fell on the stove.

The raven haired girl set the cup down, pulling a chair over to the stove. Next, she looked into the refrigerator, triumphantly pulling out bacon and a carton of eggs. She ignored the mystified looks of the two Winchester boys, pulling out a frying pan. It didn't take her long to prepare breakfast, quickly setting the small dining table and portioning out the food, allowing herself the smallest portion out of habit.

Without a word she began to eat. It took several moments of hesitation for Sam to take a bite, then Dean.

"It's good!" Dean exclaimed, surprised. She smiled, her face going pink and she ducked her head down. Once everyone cleared their plate, she collected the used dishes and cleaned them up without a word.

The rest of the day, Sam slowly warmed up to her. Before she knew it, he was asking her all sorts of questions, and telling her all sorts of things. They watched t.v. and played games, and she found herself enjoying herself for the first time in long while. The second and third days were much the same. The fourth day they woke up to discover that John had returned, weary and worn. He slept a good portion of the day, so the three of them had to be quiet. Haven was fine with that. She wasn't used to being allowed to make noise, anyway.

When John finally woke up, he still looked tired and worn, "We have to leave, boys. Haven will be staying with us for awhile, until I take care of something. Go on and pack."

Dean instantly got to work, throwing the few things they had into some bags. Haven had nothing, so instead she helped Dean pack everyone else's things. Sam put away his own things sloppily, but they fit into his bag.

Soon, they were ready to go. The family trooped out of the room, Dean holding Sam's hand protectively. Haven followed behind them, slightly uncomfortable.

They packed up the bags into the trunk of the Impala, and packed themselves in. John sat in the driver's seat, Dean slid in the passenger's seat, while Haven and Sam sat in the back.

As they hit the highway, John turned on loud music that Haven smiled at. She could imagine the Dursley's reaction to it. Thinking of those red faces yelling insults to the artists of the harsh melodies made Haven decide that she loved John's music.

They ended up in another hotel after hours of driving. The next day, they continued the long drive. That day, they ended up in Minnesota. Upon learning this information, Dean and Sam both looked eager.

The reason for their eagerness was soon discovered-it seemed they were visiting a man named Pastor Jim. John left soon after introductions were over, after a talk with the Pastor.

Haven was nervous, but that nervousness was unfounded, as the man turned out to be kind, and he immediately began trying to make the girl comfortable and find out about her past. On that subject, she would say no more than that her parents were dead and what was left of her family had left her without looking back-both said with a bitter note in her voice that is uncommonly found in the voices of six year olds. The man frowned, but said no more.

Haven found herself growing close to Dean and Sam, but especially to Dean, as he was closer to her age. They just immediately clicked-it was hard to explain. Once Haven got over her shyness, it was discovered that the two were quite similar in temperament. Both Dean and Sam decided that they quite liked having her around, and even hoped that she would be allowed to stay with them.

They would get a chance to find out in a week, when John Winchester came back.

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 **Thank you for your time. I hope to see you in the future chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2: I Remember What They Taught

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I had family things to attend to, and my muse wasn't very cooperative, unfortunately. I have been coming up with a timeline for the story, so I haven't been totally idle.**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed! You guys are the best. I hope this chapter lives up to your hopes for this story, even if it is a little shorter than the previous one.**

 **And remember, I own nothing at all.**

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 **Chapter 2: I Remember What They Taught To Me**

When John returned, he was visibly worn and exhausted. Soon, he was sleeping, leaving the three children-especially Haven, as John would be deciding her fate-to wait for him to wake up rather impatiently. Haven couldn't help but think that John would leave her, just as the Dursley's had. She had no proof of that fact, but in her heart, she knew they had left her, and not even looked back for a second.

Why was she to expect anything more from John, who hardly knew her? He might have taken her in for a few days, but she doubted he would take on any more. She was just a burden, a freak, not worth anything. She felt privileged to have even had a few days being well looked after by Dean, and little Sammy, who may not have been good at it but tried his best, all with his adorable smile and pleading puppy eyes.

While she was waiting, Haven busied herself with cleaning up, though Pastor Jim tried to convinced her not to. She wanted to do something in repayment for the kindness she had received thus far, in addition to the fact that she liked clean surroundings. It was ingrained in her to keep a place tidy, thanks to Aunt Petunia.

John woke up after many hours of tense waiting, by which point both Dean and Sam were bursting with their impatience. John obviously could tell they were impatient, so he messed with the two for a short while.

Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore, "Can we keep her?! Please, dad?"

The slightly older boy then frowned, probably because he had made it sound as if she was some sort of puppy they had found at the side of the road. Which, when she thought about it, was an appropriate comparison.

John looked thoughtful, "For a little longer, at least."

Haven blinked, looking like a deer in the headlights. She would be staying with them? He hadn't said permanently, but she had been expecting to be dumped immediately.

Everyone turned to her, staring at her, taking in her shocked expression.

Dean smiled at her, ruffling her hair, "What, did you think we were just going to leave you, or something?"

She shrugged feeling uncomfortable under all of their questioning gazes, "Um… Yeah, I guess."

Everyone frowned at her answer. She looked at each of them, nervously waiting for a response.

"Well, boys, I think we'll be staying here for Christmas." John finally said, breaking the silence. The boys cheered as the Pastor smiled.

Christmas was a small affair, but nice all the same. Haven received her first ever Christmas gifts-a stuffed animal, a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a jacket that all fit her well. It wasn't much, but to a little girl who always spent Christmas in hiding, watching Dudley open up his mountain of presents, it was amazing.

After Christmas was over, they said their goodbyes to Pastor Jim, and hit the road once more. As soon as they stopped in their destination, Haven began cleaning the place up to her standards without a word. She noticed both Dean and John watching her, but opted to ignore it.

Soon enough, her and Dean were enrolled into the local school. John was often away for his work, which Haven dared not ask about. She was never allowed to ask questions at the Dursley's, and it had become her habit not to out loud.

Desperate to show John that she appreciated him not leaving her behind to fend for herself as the Dursley's had, she threw herself into school. She learned to read faster and better than any of her classmates, her letters were neater, and she was one of the best in math. Haven found she enjoyed reading, and even read some of the books she found in the library to Sammy. He could read some on his own, and she was quite willing to help him get better. Dean often joined them in their reading, bringing his own books from first grade. He wasn't as much of a fan of reading as the other two, but he tried to enjoy it for both of them.

Two weeks after school had started, Sammy pulled her aside and informed her that Dean's birthday was coming up and he wanted to get him something. John was going to be getting things to give him from all of them, but he wanted to get him something special. He had Haven write the card, and he decorated it with supplies Haven took from her classrooms.

Dean loved the card, giving Sam and Haven big hugs. Haven really liked his hugs. They made her feel accepted and loved, like she might actually be a part of the Winchester family.

Soon after that, Haven experienced her first bully in her new life. She'd dealt with Dudley all of her life, but her tactic had always been to duck and run. But now, she wanted to do her family proud, be brave. She straightened her back, looked the older boy in the eye, and told him to leave her alone, trying her best to channel Dean, who was fearless. No one would ever mess with him, she was sure. She may not have gotten the intimidation down right, but she had tried, and she was somewhat happy with herself, even if she had to fall back on her old method of running.

After three months, they packed up and left. Haven hadn't really made any friends aside from a few quieter classmates who would sit next to her, but she had liked some of her teachers, and she was sad to see them go. However, she didn't protest as they packed their things into the impala. This time, she had actual belongings to pack, and her very own bag to put them in. She had protested the need to buy her clothing at all, but John had insisted on it.

He also seemed not to like how little she ate. She had trouble eating the portions she was given, feeling full long before the plate was empty. Any food she didn't eat would always be saved, she would never waste food, but John didn't seem to think the amount she ate was appropriate. She didn't like disappointing the man who had taken her in, and therefore tried to eat long after she felt full, with limited success.

Overall, she was quite happy with the way her life was turning out. She had the bravest older brother she could have ever imagined, an enthusiastic and inquisitive younger brother, and a father figure who looked after her. What more could she want or need?

As time passed, the idea of her leaving them never came up, and she slowly became a Winchester herself. Haven Winchester-it seemed fitting, almost, she thought with a smile. The name seemed brave and strong, and she decided that that was what she would be one day. She would make her new family proud, and walk alongside her brothers all of her life.

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 **Next chapter Haven _should_ be discovering the Supernatural, so something to look forward to!... Maybe... **

**Thank you for reading! I'll have the next chapter ready for you guys as soon as possible.**


	3. Chapter 3: Something Isn't Right

**Here it is, the chapter where Detective Haven figures out about the Supernatural! Thank you to all who followed, favorited, and reviewed. I've never had such a popular story, so this is quite new to me. Just looking at those numbers can put a smile on my face. I just can't believe so many people find my story enjoyable! You guys truly are the best.**

 **Also, there is a time skip between 2 and 3.**

 **I own nothing. At all. I promise.**

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 **Chapter 3: Something Isn't Right**

In late spring, into the next year, Haven Winchester realized something was amiss. John and Dean were keeping something from her, and had been at least since April. She was absolutely determined to find out what it was, no matter how long it took.

That March, John had taken them to Uncle Bobby's, who she had only met one other time but had decided she liked. Haven thought that the feeling was mutual-given that the thing he told her when they had departed last had been: "You look after those reckless idjits, now. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and those idjits don't have one voice of reason among them."

Curious, she had asked what he meant. All he said in reply was that she would understand one day.

In April, John began taking Dean away for long stretches of time, having Bobby keep Haven and Sam occupied. She watched as her older brother became more watchful, always ready to react to the slightest bit of danger. He kept an attentive eye on her, but especially on Sammy, like he was reassuring himself they were safe. He had possessed a protective streak since the beginning, but not like this. Something was wrong.

Pretending to be cleaning up Uncle Bobby's house, which she often did anyway, she searched for clues. She guessed that Uncle Bobby was in on the secret, as he was the one providing the distraction, and if she was careful she might find something.

At first, she didn't find much. Then, she began discovering odd little things, like herb jars in places you wouldn't expect to find them, an abundance of weapons, some of which she had seen hidden away wherever they stayed.

While she was dusting off a bookshelf, she noticed how old most of them seemed. Frowning, she made sure no one was watching her, before shoving a few of them in her jacket as quickly as she could manage it.

Once everyone was asleep, she used a flashlight to begin reading under the covers. The first one she opened was in another language. With a sigh, she moved on to the next. This one was in english, but it was slow going as she was only seven, and a good portion of the words were long ones she had never encountered before.

She frowned as she read through the book. It seemed to be centered around different myths concerning monsters. Why would Uncle Bobby have a book in another language and a book on myths? The Dursleys always scoffed at myths and monsters, claiming them to be fairy tales that wasted time. They had said fairy tales were for idiots.

But Uncle Bobby was no idiot, he wouldn't waste time with fairy tales.

Sighing, she set aside the second book to pick up her final book. It was another dusty old myth book, though it dealt specifically with demons.

Weren't demons evil? So why would Uncle Bobby have an evil book in his house? She knew he wasn't evil, so why else would he have the book?

It occurred to her that the book did speak of things that could keep demons at bay, or ways to exorcise them. He could just want the information he would need should he ever need to fight them.

But that assumed that demons were real. She was open to the idea, but she'd need more proof than a few books. They could just be for pleasure reading, though Uncle Bobby didn't seem the type for that.

She turned off the light and put the books under her pillows with a disappointed sigh. She didn't even know if this had anything to do with what John and Dean were up to.

Haven went to sleep hoping that tomorrow would bring more concrete results.

The next morning she put the books back when no one was looking. With that done, she went to join everyone else for breakfast, as she had woken up abnormally late due to her reading. Today was Sunday, and if she didn't get a move on, she'd have to wait for the last week of school to be over with to resume her investigation.

Once breakfast was over, John and Dean headed out once more. Haven turned towards Uncle Bobby. She might generally refrain from asking questions, but she wanted to know what was going on.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby?" when he turned to her to signify he was listening, she continued, "Where do they keep going?"

He shrugged, but she could see in his eyes that he was on alert, "They're running errands right now, though yesterday they went out shooting."

She nodded, though she wasn't at all convinced.

Throughout the day, she didn't manage to find any more clues beyond what she had found the day before. She contented herself with playing with Sammy, who now boasted five years of life, his birthday only being a short time ago.

When John and Dean finally returned, after hugs had been given out and Sammy started excitedly recounting the day, Haven noticed John had set aside the journal that he carried nearly everywhere. She normally would have refrained from peeking in it, but it might be the only thing with clues as to what was going on. While everyone's attention was on Sammy-she'd have to thank him later for providing a suitable distraction-she took the opportunity to take the journal and hide it within her jacket, taking it to her room under the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

A year ago, she wouldn't have been able to take it. Now, she was a little more confident in her standing as a member of the family, and doubted John would leave her. Of course, once she'd gotten answers, she would apologize for stealing it.

That night, she once more brought out the flashlight and began scanning the pages. In the beginning, it was some sort of diary, starting from just after Mary Winchester's death. Haven didn't know much about her, no one ever really talked about her much, but she knew that the woman had died in a fire. As the entries went on, it seemed that John thought that someone… or some _thing…_ had set the fire, and only became more adamant about it.

With a growing feeling that it was all coming together, she flipped ahead, through newspaper clippings and scribbled notes, before she stopped when one of the notes caught her eye.

 _Today, we took in this little homeless girl, Haven, she said her name was. I found her alone on the streets, being chased by something. I'm not too sure what it was, I didn't get a good look at it, but it isn't safe for her to be alone, so I left her with my boys, where she'll be under enough wards to keep her safe until I find out what this is and take it down. I did the regular checks, she isn't anything supernatural, so it should be okay for her to stay with the boys._

Here was the proof-monsters were real. If John thought so, she would believe it.

It was exciting, thinking about John being a hero who saved people all of the time. She didn't care that he lied about what his job was-he was the good guy, the hero who saved the day, the protector who took in the young homeless girl with nowhere else to go. He must have had a reason for keeping it from her.

She frowned, thinking about what John said about her being followed. Haven didn't remember all that much from before John had found her. Had something been after her? Maybe it had done something with her memory, and her reclaiming it was the key to finding out what it was?

Sighing, she repositioned herself and her flashlight and read on.

 _She hasn't told us much, but I think she isn't on good terms with whoever was taking care of her. Her accent is British, so perhaps she came from there? I'll do some research on creatures from there, it might give me some clue._

 _No luck in finding what was after Haven, so I'm taking her and my boys to Jim's so I can look into it._

 _I think whatever was after Haven is following us… it hasn't attacked or made a move, but I don't think I'll be able to get a good night's sleep until it's killed… What could it want with her? Maybe it killed her parents, and now is after her? She doesn't seem to know about it, whatever it was. I'd ask her about it but… the poor kid seems to have had enough bad in her life, at least for now. If it becomes necessary, I'll ask her, but until then I'll see what I can do._

Haven's eyes widened. It had been following them, and might still be? Could that be what had Dean being so protective? Had John told him, and now he was just waiting for it to make it's move and show itself?

She scanned the pages, reading through newspaper clippings and notes John left from the past year. She saw no sign of John ever finishing off the thing following her, which was quite worrisome. She was bringing danger upon them all, with it following her.

When she came upon the month of April, she discovered what John and Dean had been doing-John had started training Dean beyond just the basic protections, and allowed his oldest son to help him research. Satisfied, she closed the book, turned off the flashlight, and settled herself into a better position for sleep.

If Dean were learning how to fight monsters with their dad, she wanted to be by his side. She wanted to keep him safe, like he did for her. She wanted to help keep little Sammy safe. She wanted to be given the knowledge to fight all those things John talked about-ghosts, shifters, and everything else. She wanted to make sure that whatever was after her never harmed her family.

Tomorrow, after school, she would return the journal, admit her theft and apologize for reading, and ask to be trained alongside her older brother.

But now, she really, _really_ needed some sleep.

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 **Look at our little Haven growing up and discovering things all on her own! Next chapter will be the discussion with John, then a pretty awesome/adorable conversation following. I'm excited to start writing it.**

 **So what did you guys think of this chapter?**


	4. Chapter 4: You And Me Against the World

**Hello again my fellow humans!**

 **Thank you to all who have reviewed, followed, and favorited. There are seriously almost 4000 views. Can you believe how many people have read this?! I can't.**

 **So, I own, like, nothing. Maybe the idea? Not sure. Just be nice and don't take it, Haven won't like it.**

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 **Chapter 4: You And Me Against the World**

"What's wrong?"

She jumped slightly, Dean's voice having shocked her out of her thoughts. She met his eyes for a moment, before she broke the contact, much like a child getting caught in wrongdoing.

Leaning closer, so no one else would hear, she whispered, "I'll tell you later, okay?"

He frowned at her, but nodded anyway. More likely than not, curiousity would be burning through him all day. She sighed, yet another somewhat daunting conversation planned for today. Just _lovely_.

All day in school, she was both excited and nervous, causing her attention to waver uncharacteristically from school activities, though none of them were of particular importance, as it was the last week. Honestly, she just wanted to get them out of the way, so that she could get to the training and protecting part of her plan.

When the final bell of the day rang, she suddenly wished that the day had dragged on longer, nervous about the conversations she would be having. She was quiet all the way back to Uncle Bobby's, deep in thought.

Once home, she walked right up to John, before she lost her nerve, and said, "Can I talk to you alone, please, daddy?"

Her huge green eyes blinked up at him, and with a sigh, he nodded, leading her into another room.

"Yes, Haven?" he asked once he sat down. Head ducked down, she slowly drew out the journal and handed it to him.

"I'm sorry daddy. I took your journal, but I really wanted to know what you and Dean were doing, so I read it. Please don't be mad." She begged as he took the journal back. For a moment, he looked like he was going to get angry and start yelling, but it dissipated after he took one look in those sincere, bright green eyes, and he sat back with a sigh, hand coming to his face tiredly.

"Daddy?" she asked as the silence stretched. The hand dropped, and he picked the petite girl up, placing her in his lap.

"No, I'm not mad, Haven." he sighed.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him, "Daddy, I wanna learn, too, with Dean. I wanna fight monsters and help you and be a hero and protect Dean and Sammy. Teach me, please? Pretty please? I'll be super good, I promise."

"Haven…"

" _Please daddy?"_ he'd have to be a monster to resist the look that the seven year old was giving him. John Winchester was many things, but a monster was not one of them.

"Alright, I'll teach you. But Haven, hunting is a very serious, dangerous business. It isn't a game. Lives are at stake." John decided, picking her up and putting her back on the ground as he stood. "I'm glad you admitted to taking my journal, Haven, even if you did a bad thing in stealing it."

She nodded, "I'm sorry for taking it. I just wanted to know what was wrong, 'cause Dean was acting weird and I didn't like it."

He smiled, messing up her already messy black hair as he moved to exit the room.

As he reached the door, he heard Haven say, "Daddy?"

He turned, "Yes?"

"In your book, you said there was something after me. Have you found it yet?" Haven asked, looking down at her purple sneakers.

He frowned, shaking his head, "No, I haven't."

"And it's still following me?" she asked, fiddling with an unruly strand of hair.

"I believe so, yes."

"Oh." she paused, before meeting his eyes, "Do you know what it is? If it's following me, do you think I'm putting Sam and Dean in danger? I don't want them to get hurt. I wanna stop it from hurting them. I don't remember what it is, I'm sorry daddy. I tried really really hard to remember, but I can't. It hurts my head when I try, but I still try lots. I tried _all_ day. Can monsters do that, daddy?"

"I don't know. Thank you for telling me, Haven. It might help us find it and stop it from hurting your brothers." John replied.

"Can I help, daddy? I can get even better at reading. I can already read a whole lot." She begged, tugging at his shirt.

"Of course you can, kiddo. Let's go see what your brothers are up to, alright?" her father figure said with a small smile, opening the door and leading the girl into the room where everyone else was.

A little later, Dean asked her to explain what had been wrong earlier. Seeing as she had told him that he would get answers later, she decided to go ahead and tell him.

"Well," she said, "I found dad's journal, and I read it because I wanted to know what was wrong because you seemed different and I wanted to know why. I know about monsters and everything, and dad says that he's going to train me, too."

Dean looked surprised, and then relieved, "You found out? Dad wasn't mad?"

She shook her head, "He looked like he might be for a second, but then he wasn't. You could have told me you were learning to fight monsters."

"Dad said not to tell yet. He said he would tell when you were older. He made me promise not to tell." Dean replied.

"Oh. How much do you know already? Have you killed any monsters yet?" she asked, tugging his sleeve, looking excited.

"No, dad hasn't let me yet. I know a little bit, but you're smart, you'll probably catch up really quickly." Dean replied.

"You think so?" she questioned, not sounding so convinced, "I bet you were perfect at everything."

"No, some of it is really hard." Dean said, shaking his head, "But I am pretty good at it so far, at least that's what dad says."

"Does Sam know yet?" she asked, as Dean shook his head. "Well, then how long have you known?"

"Years. Almost as long as dad has, I think." her older brother said with a shrug.

They bother descended into silence, until Dean broke it again, quietly asking, "Haven?"

"Yeah?" she whispered back, just as quietly as he had.

He looked to both sides, before he said in a barely audible voice, "I'm scared."

Bright green eyes wide, she nodded, lowering her voice to say, "I'm scared too."

"What if you get hurt? Or Sammy? What if I can't protect him?" he asked, looking like the question had been eating him up for awhile.

"Of course you can. You can do anything." Haven replied matter-of-factly, as if it was as certain as the chair they were sitting on. "But I'll help you look after Sammy. I don't want him to get hurt. I won't let you get hurt either."

"That's it!" Dean replied, green eyes lighting up, "We'll look after him together, so there's no way he'll get hurt. We'll stay up and watch to make sure nothing comes in at night, we'll stay with him as much as possible, and look out for him. With two people, it won't be too hard."

"Alright! But there's something we especially need to look out for," once more, she lowered her voice to say, "Dad says that there's been something after me since before you guys found me. We don't know what it is, and I can't remember it. We'll have to watch for it, in case it tries to hurt Sammy."

Dean sat bolt upright, "Something's after you?!"

Haven nodded, "It's been following me. I'm going to help dad find it, but you know more than me."

"Thanks, Haven. You can tell me if you remember anything, even if it's scary." Dean said, giving her a quick hug.

"I don't really remember anything, besides being really hungry and hurting." she said, "I think some of my nightmares are about it, but I can't remember those either."

She did get nightmares often. Generally, if she woke them up, Sam would crawl on one side, and Dean on the other, until she settled down and fell asleep again. Dean woke up easily if he sensed distress, his older brother instincts kicking in.

"Well, maybe you'll remember soon. But first, we have to get you all caught up. Come on!" and with that, Dean dragged her outside, both of the giggling all the while.

That night, Haven dreamed of fighting monsters at Dean's side, the two of them being known far and wide as the best hunters to walk the land.

* * *

 **Next chapter, I'll be doing more on Haven and Dean's relationship. After that, I'll add Sam into the mix, but her relationship with him isn't as strong right now.**

 **Reviews are always appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5: There For You

**Salutations, lovely readers! School has returned, so unfortunately the updates will be slowed down. Ah, well, life happens. I can't be hermit, even for you luminous people.**

 **So, I'd like to clear up the ages. It is 1988, sometime in October.** **Haven is eight years old. Dean is nine, and Sammy is five. Haven is in third grade, Dean is in fourth, and Sam is a Kindergartener. She has been with the Winchesters for two years, but I doubt Sam remembers a time before her, really.**

 **This chapter is Dean and Haven centric (prepare to choke on sugar), though John and Sam are of course there.**

 **I tried to make them act their ages, but Haven is also very mature for her age.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: There For You**

Haven shot bolt upright, screaming and looking around wildly with fear. She blinked when she realized that she had only been dreaming, that she was in her bed with Dean holding her close and telling her it was okay. It took her several seconds to calm her rushed breathing and frantic heartbeat. She registered Sammy climbing in next to her, snuggling against her other side.

"Sorry, guys." she murmured sleepily, wrapping her arms around the two most important people in her life. Sam didn't even bother giving her a response, burying his head further into her side.

Dean, however, ruffled her hair, saying, "Silly, it's not a problem."

She heard the end of that statement that Sam did not: ' _I was awake anyway, so don't worry about it.'_

Sam unburied his head, looking up at her and asking, "Are you okay now, sis?"

"Of course I am, I have you." she replied cheerily, discarding the panic for a moment to wrap her arms around his small body and pull him closer, effectively reassuring him. When she met Dean's eyes, she realized that he wasn't so convinced. Of course he wasn't.

Once Sammy had fallen back to sleep, Haven said, "I'm awake, so might as well start my watch. What time is it?"

Dean looked at the clock next to the rickety bed, "Almost two. Your watch isn't until two thirty, so we have a little more than thirty minutes for you to talk about your dream."

"Are you sure you don't want some extra sleep? You gave me extra time yesterday." she asked, stretching her arms and back. He shook his head, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of her question. Haven sighed, gently pulling herself out of Sam's arms. She quietly padded over to the couch, both her and her brother sitting down. The room was illuminated by the small television, the volume almost at mute.

Neither said a word as Haven collected her thoughts. She had been telling Dean anything she could remember from her dreams, so that she could hopefully get some idea as to what was after her. But this dream had nothing to do with that: it had started with her at the Dursleys, and ended with something she had seen before-the laughter and the green light. She didn't know why it always managed to get her into a state of panic, but it did without fail. Did it have to do with the blank in her memories? Haven wasn't sure, but her gut told her it was something else. Training with John and Dean taught her to trust her instincts, so she did.

"Well… it started with memories from when I was little, before I met you guys. Not anything useful," she added, when he began to look excited, "but it was just-... before I came here, I was staying with my relatives. They said my parents were drunks, and that they died in a car crash when I was little, which is where I got this scar."

She motioned to the lightning bolt partially covered by stray locks of untidy black hair, before she continued, "In the dream, I was back there. They weren't… nice people. My cousin and his friends were chasing me around the school. I managed to escape, but I got in trouble with my aunt and uncle."

Haven's hands clenched. If she hadn't been so tired and panicky, she probably wouldn't have said anything. She hadn't ever even spoken of her life before to any of them. She glanced at Dean, seeing him watching her patiently, waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath-Dean wouldn't judge her. He was a good older brother, he would listen and hug her and all would be well. It was okay to talk to him.

That decided, the eight year old continued, "They locked me in my cupboard. They did that whenever they got mad at me. It was where I slept."

Dean looked appalled. Nervous, she plowed on, "I hung out with the spiders in there for a little bit, and then the dream changed. It was dark. I heard a woman screaming, I think, and a man laughing. He didn't sound nice. Then there was a flash of green light, and my head hurt, then I woke up."

Her older brother gave her a hug, "You told me about your past."

"I did."

Silence stretched on, before Dean broke it once more, "Do you want to talk about your family? Your aunt, uncle, and cousin?"

"Not right now."

"Well, if you ever want to, you know where to find me. If you ever need to talk to someone about something, you can come to me, got it? I'm your brother, it's my job." Dean informed her.

"Alright, as long as you promise to come to me if you need someone to listen, or just to tell you that you are being an idiot. It's only fair." she said, poking him and grinning.

He playfully shoved her away, "Hey! As long as I get to be the person to tell you that, too."

Haven's grin only got wider, "Alright. You be my person, I'll be yours. Deal?"

"Deal." she replied. With that, they shook on it, before descending into uncontrollable giggles at their own silliness. Once the giggles faded, Haven poked Dean.

"I love you, brother. You probably should go to sleep." she informed him.

"Alright, alright. I love you too. Goodnight, Haven." he said, rolling his eyes and waving. He stood, walked the short distance to the bed, and collapsed upon it.

"'Night." she called after him.

She saw his head pop back up, "Are you sure you're okay? I can stay up a little longer, it won't hurt."

"Go to sleep, Dean, before I sit on you to make sure you don't get up." she replied, making sure to keep her voice quiet lest she wake up Sam.

"No you won't," grumbled Dean, but he went quiet none the less. With a fond smile, she turned her attention to cleaning up a little. Once she finished that, she began watching the television to wait out her watch.

* * *

 **POV Change: Dean Winchester**

 **That night (because it was technically morning in the first part)**

Dean stares at the television boredly. It was the third night since dad had left, and he was so _so_ tired of this small hotel room. He had been considering for the past hour just leaving the room for a little while, maybe going to the arcade. Now, he finally decided he would.

So he stood, turning off the t.v. and heading towards the door. Once there, he froze, looking back at the sleeping forms of Haven and Sam. If he was going to leave, he should probably wake his sister. She just looked so… peaceful. He didn't want to disturb her. Besides, he wouldn't be gone that long. Convinced, he unlocked the door, exited, and locked it back. Stowing the key in his pocket, he walked to the nearby arcade, glad to be out of the room.

He lost himself in the game, having fun for the first time in days. This had so been worth it.

"Kid. We're closing up." a man informed him. Sighing, he shut off the game. Time to head back. It was probably about time for him to wake up Haven for her watch, though he'd probably let her sleep in, since he had gone to the arcade.

He went back to the room, watching his surroundings. He unlocked the door, entering the room and immediately locking it behind him.

When he turned, fear flashed through him when he saw an odd light coming from the room where Sammy and Haven were sleeping. He cautiously moved closer, scared of what he might see. He eased open the door, seeing a black cloaked figure, a shtriga, bending over Sammy. He sucked in a breath, realizing that this was what dad was hunting, and it was going to make Sammy sick. He pushed back his blind panic at seeing the monster so close to his little siblings, reaching for the gun leaning against the wall.

Dean cocked the gun, causing the shtriga to react, rearing up and roaring when it saw him. He froze, what should he do now? He heared the door open behind him, and then dad yelled for him to get out of the way. Dean moved instantly in reaction, as dad walked forward and began to shoot the monster. As it jumped out of the window, Haven woke up with wide green eyes, taking in the scene in a moment. Dad just kept shooting, stopping at the window and shooting another few times for good measure.

Then he dropped the gun, shaking Dean's little brother awake and pulling him into a hug, "Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. You okay?"

A confused and half asleep Sam asked, "Yeah Dad, what's going on?"

"You alright?" Dad questioned as Dean put down the gun and met Haven's eyes. He can see she is wondering what happened, and why he didn't wake her up like agreed.

Dad turned to him, "What happened?"

"I-I-I just went out." he stuttered, cursing himself that he left without waking Haven up. His eyes flick between Haven and Dad, not sure who's reaction scares him more.

Dad glared, still holding Sam, "What?"

When he chanced another glance at Haven, he could see the question in her eyes ' _Why didn't you wake me?'_

"Just for a second. I'm sorry." Dean answered both of them, hands behind his back.

"I told you not to leave this room." Dad's voice was scary, a hard edge to it. "I told you not to let him out of your sight."

Dad stared at him a moment longer, looking like he's about to start crying, before looking away and burying his head in Sammy's curly brown hair. Haven just looked at him, he had to look away because he couldn't stand how intense the green was, just staring at him without blinking.

He had failed. He hadn't protected them. It was his responsibility to look after Sammy, after Haven. He could have woken her up, or just stayed put. Would that have been so hard?

All the way to Pastor Jim's, Dad wouldn't even look at him. Dean couldn't bear to even meet Haven's eyes, just knowing that she would blame him for almost getting Sammy killed. Sam could have died so easily.

What would he have done, had Sammy been hurt? As it was, he couldn't forgive himself for putting his baby brother in harms way. How was Dad supposed to forgive him, or Haven? Sammy probably wouldn't have either, had he known what had happened. As it was, a blissfully ignorant Sammy talked to him like normal, which hurt almost as much as Dad ignoring him did.

Once they were dropped off and settled, he put himself in exile and mulled over his thoughts. He was surprised when Haven came, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean." Haven whispered.

"What?" he asked, staring at his feet.

"Look at me."

He couldn't ignore her, so he did. There was no condemnation in her eyes, only concern. He didn't know if he should be relieved or not.

"Are you okay? You're supposed to talk to me when you need to." Haven pointed out. "Why didn't you wake me up if you wanted to leave? I could have watched Sam while you were gone, it wouldn't have bothered me."

"I didn't want to wake you up. I wasn't gone long and I thought… I didn't think. I'm sorry, Haven." Dean replied. To his utter embarrassment tears began burning in his eyes. Haven and Sammy could have been hurt because of him.

"Hey, it's alright. You made a mistake, and no one was hurt in the end. Seriously, Dean, it's okay. Next time, you'll wake me up, or you won't leave." she said kindly.

"But Sammy almost got-"

"The key word there is 'almost'." Haven interrupted. He shut his mouth, looking away. "Look, I'm not upset or angry or anything. Just wake me up next time, okay?"

When he didn't say anything, she repeated, " _Okay?"_

"Okay, fine." he muttered. "Why are you the one making me feel better? You're the little sister, it isn't supposed to work this way."

She rolled her eyes, "It's supposed to be equal exchange, you know."

With that, she walked away.

* * *

 ***Haven mic drops***

 **So, yeah... Haven and Dean... it's adorable.**

 **Side note: Anyone understand the reference?**

 **Please follow, favorite, and review. If you have a question, comment, or concern, please tell me. Also, I am always open to suggestions. I have a good bit of plot planned out, but there are holes to be filled, and things can always be changed if I like one of your ideas better. Feedback helps writers improve, and I'd really like to do this story justice. I can use all the help I can get XD**

 **Thank you all for reading. See you with chapter 6 (hint: It's got more Sam involvement, so yay for adorable Sam!)**


	6. Chapter 6: So Much For Innocence

**So, um... last chapter, well... Apparently there were two references. One on purpose, one I didn't even know was a reference. I meant for the Grey's Anatomy one to be there, but the FMA... so you guys all get extra points for finding it, cause I had no clue it existed. Victory hugs for everyone.**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. You guys give me the willpower to update every week.**

 **By the way, timeskip time! Two years have passed, now Haven is ten, Dean is eleven, and Sam is seven.**

 **Oh, and I own nothing. I'll tell ya if that ever changes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: So Much For Innocence**

Haven sighs, fixing her hair into a functional ponytail in the small bathroom the hotel room possessed. Judging by the loud, slightly girly yelp that had woken her up that morning, she would be attempting to avoid the crossfire of her brothers' prank war today, just as she had been for the past few days.

It had all started when Sammy decided it would be amusing to prank Dean. Her older brother, now boasting eleven years of life, wouldn't allow himself to be bested, and the war began. As long as she payed attention to her surroundings, she could avoid setting off a prank meant for someone else. She had learned the first day that the key to survival was watchfulness when she ended up getting covered in paint, and right after she had taken a shower, too.

It was pretty obvious that Sammy was way outmatched by his older brother, despite his creativity and ingenuity. Their older brother simply had more years of pranking experience. If she had wanted to get involved, she probably could have provided Dean with a challenge, but Sam needed a few more years before he'd manage it.

Ah, well. Watching was fun enough.

Once at the elementary school, Sam cornered her right before they had to head to class, begging, "Haven, you have to help me prank Dean."

"Sorry, no can do. I'm staying out of this, alright?" she replied easily. She had been expecting Sam to ask her at some point-he didn't have the pride Dean did and he was smart enough to know when to call for reinforcements.

" _Please,_ Haven?" Sammy begged, his eyes growing wide. Haven stared back, annoyed. He was not seriously unleashing the puppy eyes for this, it wasn't like it would work or-

Wait… there went her willpower.

How could she say no to him? She'd have to be a monster to turn down those eyes. It wouldn't hurt to teach him a few tricks, with the understanding that they would never be used against her.

"Alright, I guess it won't hurt. But just this once, okay? I'll tell you the plan while we're waiting for Dean after school, okay?" she replied. Sammy yelped with excitement, hopping with his glee before throwing his arms around her waist.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best sister ever!" and with that exclamation, he skipped off to class. Once he was out of sight, she sighed, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't believe she had just agreed to this.

Well, if she was going to get involved, might as well make it spectacular. As she headed to her class, a grin began forming. She had a few ideas just lying around that might work.

Short version of the next few days: Dean was decimated by the onslaught of both Haven and Sam, though he put up a valiant fight. He remained bitter over the oreos filled with toothpaste that Haven made for him for some days. He got back at her for that by supergluing her hand to the door handle. She retaliated by stealing the glue he used and putting it in his shampoo. Sam then put Dean's clothing in the freezer, so he got a cold surprise when he was getting dressed for school, much to the pleasure of his siblings.

While teaming up with Sam was fun, next time she was totally gunning to take both of them down. What could she say? She was an equal-opportunity pranker, when in the mood for that sort of thing.

 **Broken Bow, Nebraska**

 **Two weeks later - Christmas Eve**

Haven is sitting on one of the twin beds, _The Fellowship of the Ring_ propped up for comfortable reading.

"What is that?" Dean asked. She looked up, about to answer when she realized that the question hadn't been aimed at her, but Sammy. He looked up from his wrapping, it was something small, she didn't know what exactly it was.

"A present for dad." Sam answered.

"Yeah right," Dean scoffed, "Where'd you get the money? Steal it?"

"No." Sam argued, still wrapping, "Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him. Said it was real special."

"Well, what is it?" Dean asked.

Sarcastically, Sam replied, "A pony."

As Haven stifled a giggle, Dean walked away from the window and sat on the couch next to Sam, saying, "Very funny."

"Dad's gonna be here, right?" Sam asked as Dean opened a magazine.

"He'll be here, Sam." Haven said, bookmarking her page and closing it.

Sam said, "It's Christmas."

"He knows." Dean replied, glancing at Haven. "And he'll be here. Promise."

Haven sighed. They didn't know if he'd be here, in all honesty. They hoped, but something told her that this Christmas would be spent without him.

Sam frowned, "Where is he anyway?"

"On business." Dean replied, sending an alarmed look at Haven before casually flipping through his magazine as if nothing was wrong.

"What kind of business?" Sam asked.

"Sam." Haven interjected, a bit of warning in her tone, "You know that."

The youngest just stared at her, until she sighed and elaborated, "He sells stuff."

Looking at the present he had finished wrapping, Sam asked, "What kind of stuff."

"Why don't you ask dad tomorrow, when he's here?" Haven suggested. What was Sam getting at here? He was intelligent, he liked asking questions, but why these in particular?

"Not like he'll tell me, anyway. Nobody ever tells me anything." Sam pouted.

"Then quit asking." Dean said, standing up and sitting next to her on the bed. He went back to his magazine.

Sam leaned over the back of the couch, brow furrowed thoughtfully, "Is dad a spy?"

"Mm-hmm. He's James Bond." Dean replied.

"Why do we move around so much?" Sam pressed. Dean glared at his magazine, then shot Haven another quick look.

"Because everywhere we go they get sick of your face." Dean bit out. Sam sighed, jumping over the couch. He leaned against it.

"I'm old enough, guys. You can tell me the truth." Sam said. Haven looked up in alarm, before looking back down at her book as if examining the cover.

"Sometimes it's better not to know the truth." Haven said carefully, breath coming quicker. _He found out. How did he find out? Wait… maybe he didn't. Maybe he's just suspecting that something is up, and wants to know, like I did. This is just his investigation…_

She wasn't really convincing herself, but A for effort.

"Is that why we never talk about… mom?" Sam ventured. She felt Dean stiffen beside her, before he threw the magazine past her and bolted upright.

"Shut up! Don't you ever talk about mom, _ever!"_ Dean yelled, getting in Sam's face. They stared at one another, before Dean stepped back, and headed towards the door.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Out." Dean announced, opening the door and slamming it behind him. Sam frowned, looking like a kicked puppy. Haven got up, coming to stand beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Sam. It'll be okay, he just needs to get some air. You know he just doesn't like talking about her. Come on, help me wrap Dean's present? I could use your superior wrapping skills." Haven asked. Slowly, Sam nodded, and helped her wrap a black baseball cap that she had gotten a few months ago for Dean. It would probably be better for him if he didn't ask how she had gotten it.

Not too long after, Dean returned. Haven looked up from her book, eyes zeroing in on the paper bag her older brother carried.

"Thought you went out." Sam said from where he sat on the couch.

"Yeah, to get you dinner." Dean replied, reaching into the bag, and throwing a couple of bags at Sam, adding, "Don't forget your vegetables."

She was pretty sure funyuns weren't vegetables, but she didn't think now was the time to argue the point, mutely accepting the bag of chips he handed to her as he set the bag down next to her and took off his jacket. Dean sat next to her, opening a can of soda, as Sam took his seat on the bed across from them.

Sam appeared to gather up the nerve, before he remarked, "I know why you keep guns under your pillows."

Dean automatically looked under his pillow, looking at the gun which lay exactly where it had been left. Haven felt hollow-she had known Sam wouldn't let the matter drop, it wasn't like him. She wished, for once, that her brother wasn't so curious, so perceptive. For once, she wished him stupid. Better to be stupid and ignorant, at least for now. Couldn't this have waited a few years, when he wasn't so… small? Fragile? She wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go, never let the horrors of the world touch her precious baby brother.

"No you don't." Dean said, letting the pillow fall back down on the gun. "Stay out of my stuff."

She knew Dean knew what was going to happen, that Sam knew or guessed, and wouldn't rest until he had answers.

Sam just said, "And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go."

Alarmed, Dean replied forcefully, "No you don't, shut up."

Sam leaned back, reaching under his mattress, drawing out a book. As soon as she saw it, the blood drained from her face. She knew that book. It was funny, almost, that she and Sam had learned exactly the same way, at the same age, too.

Sam threw the book onto the nightstand, knocking over a cup.

Dean stood, "Where'd you get that? That's dads. He's gonna kick your ass for reading that."

"No, he won't." she found herself whispering, but neither heard her.

"Are monsters real?" Sam asked them quietly, yet it sounded deafening in her ears. _No. Not now. Please, Sam, not yet._

"What? You're crazy." Dean said. She could tell he was shaken, that he was trying to deny that Sam knew, that there was no going back, and Sam's precious childlike innocence was gone. He knew the truth now.

"Tell me." Sam replied, looking between them both, waiting to see which one would admit it first.

Dean bit his lip as she put a hand on his shoulder, dragging him back down onto the bed, looking him in the eyes and saying, "Dean."

As he remained silent, visibly fighting with himself, she whispered. "I was his age when I found out. He deserves to hear it from us, Dean."

"Fine. Just-Sam, if you ever tell dad we said anything, I will end you." Dean threatened.

"Promise." Sam said. There was something odd in his eyes, and she hated it. He looked serious, too serious.

Dean leaned forward, saying, "The first thing you have to know is… we have the coolest dad in the world."

Haven nodded in agreement, adding in a conspiratorial whisper "He's like a superhero."

Sam looked confused, "He is?"

"Yeah, he is." Haven affirmed, a small smile on her face. What she would have given to really be a Winchester, to have been born in this family instead of to a pair of jobless drunks who probably had never saved a single life, like their dad did.

"Monsters are real." Dean confirmed. "Dad fights 'em. He's fight them right now."

Sam looked down, looking pretty torn up, "But dad said- the monsters under my bed weren't real."

Haven ruffled Sam's hair, "Silly, that's because he already looked under there."

Dean held back his laughter, saying, "But, yeah, they're real. Almost everything is real."

"Is Santa real?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, "No."

Haven looked at him, before saying, "We don't really know that, do we? He could be, and we just don't know it."

Sam didn't look convinced by her argument, which made sense as he always trusted Dean's word over hers. It hurt a little, but she knew that their relationship was different, and there was always going to be a part of it closed off, even to her.

"If monsters are real, then they can get us. They can get me." Sam said.

"Dad won't let them get you." Dean replied.

"But what if they get him?" Sam asks. Haven can tell that this is what had really been bothering him, above everything. That it's only a matter of time before the monsters get them all.

"They aren't going to get dad." Dean reassured him, "Dad's like-the best."

"I read in dad's book that they-that they got mom." Sam said.

Dean sighed, "It's complicated Sam."

"If they got mom, they can get dad. And if they can get dad, they can get us." Sam reasoned.

"Sam." Haven interrupted, grabbing his arm and staring him in the eyes, as Dean got up and sat at Sam's side. "Dad will protect you. _We_ will protect you, no matter what. That's what we are here for. We'll all be fine."

"But what if it's not enough!" Sam cried, grabbing her arm and visibly fighting tears, "They'll get us, it's only a matter of time."

"Sam. Look at me." she said, trying to calm his mounting panic, "We will protect you. Dad will protect you. They won't get you, ever. I won't let them, neither will Dean."

"But what about you, Haven? What about Dean? What about Dad? I don't want them to get you either." he exclaimed, voice cracking.

"Then I guess you'll just have to protect us, too. That's what we do, Sam. We protect each other, so that there's no chance of the monsters getting us. If we all protect each other, we'll be okay, you'll see. Right Dean?" She looked to Dean, who nodded.

"We'll teach you what we know, and then you'll know what to do if something comes after us. Our sister is a pretty good shot, for a girl." Dean flashed a smirk at her. She didn't even mind the jab, too thankful that Sam was looking a little less panicked. He was taking it so much worse than she had. Maybe because he realized what it truly meant, that at any moment they could all be killed. She had been too busy seeing glory, thinking that they were all invincible. Sam wasn't like that, he understood what it all really meant.

"Dean's really good, too. Between us and dad, they'll be hard pressed to get us. You'll be good soon, too, you'll see." Haven said.

"You really think I could protect you guys?" Sam asked.

"Of course. I bet you'll be just as strong as Dean is, in a few years. Until then, we'll look after you, just like always." Haven replied. She really believed it. Sam was smart, he'd catch on quickly.

"Guys, can I just… go to sleep?" Sam asked. She could tell that despite their reassurances, he still wasn't completely convinced. It was a lot to take in. Looking at Dean, she nodded.

"Yeah, go on." she whispered.

"Dad'll be here tomorrow, Sam." Dean added. Sam ignored them completely, laying down. She could tell he was crying, and Dean looked close to it as well. Slowly, she stood up and pulled the blanket over Sammy's quivering body, wishing that she had the power to make everything better. That Sam could always be happy and never know what walked in the dark.

"It gets better, Sam. I'm sorry." she whispered, unsure if he heard her or not. Dean had gone to the bathroom, unable to stay in the room with them, and she just stretched out on the bed next to Sam, wrapping an arm around him and wishing that it was enough.

She dozed, not ever really falling asleep. Some time after one in the morning, Dean roused her.

"I'm going to go get something for Sam." he informed her quietly, "He could use something special."

"Alright." she agreed. "I'll watch him. Don't be too long, you could use some sleep."

The next morning, her and Dean both woke Sam up after spending an hour preparing the room for Christmas. Their dad hadn't shown up, but they agreed to pretend he had, for Sam.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean said as Haven shook him awake, "Dad was here, look what he brought."

"Dad was here?" Sam asked groggily.

"Yeah." Haven said, "Look at all those presents."

Sam yawned, "Why didn't he try to wake me up?"

"He tried to like a thousand times." Dean said.

"He did?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Did I tell you he'd give us Christmas, or what? Go on, dive in."

Sam jumped up, something of a smile on his face. He picked up the first presents he got his hands on. They were the ones Dean had brought back-honestly, she was kind of scared to ask where he'd gotten them. Sam brought the presents to the couch, both Haven and Dean sitting next to him with anticipation.

"What is it?" Dean asked, as Sam pulled the last of the wrapping off. Sam looked confused.

"Sapphire Barbie?" Sam questioned.

Dean laughed, "Dad probably mixed up you and Haven's presents. That or he thinks you're a girl."

"Shut up." Sam said, throwing the package on the ground.

"Open that one." Dean suggested, gesturing to the other present. Sam did so, pulling out a sparkly baton.

"Dad never showed, did he?" Sam said.

"Yeah, he did, I swear." Dean protested.

"Dean… where'd you get all this stuff?" Sam asked, looking at the girly presents.

"Honestly, I'd like to know that as well." Haven remarked with a grin.

Dean sighed, "Nice house up the block. I _swear_ I didn't know they were chick presents. Otherwise I'd have given them to Haven."

She stuck her tongue out at Dean, "Well, the sparkly baton looks fun."

"Look, I'm sure dad would have been here if he could." Dean said.

"If he's alive." Sam added.

"He's alive, Sam." Haven replied, "He's dad."

Sam nodded, not looking convinced. Haven had already given Dean her present to him earlier, when they were preparing for Sam. Now it was her turn. She had one single present, a small box-shaped thing. She pulled off the wrapping to break the silence, pulling out a box. Opening the box, she found a small plastic compact mirror.

"That's from both of us." Dean informed her as she examined the purple mirror, opening it with a smile. This was just like them. Her last birthday, they had gotten her little hairpins that functioned as lockpicks (which had been pointed out by Dean, who had taught her how in the first place).

That done, Sam pulled out a present, shoving it at Dean. "Here. Take this."

"No. No, that's for dad." Dean protested, staring at the poorly wrapped present that Sammy was holding in front of him.

"Dad lied to me." Sam pointed out. "I want _you_ to have it."

Dean stared at the thing for a long moment. Finally, he asked, "You sure?"

"I'm sure." Sam said firmly. Dean took the little package, unwrapping the paper off as they watched. He pulled out an amulet on a black chord.

"Thank you, Sam." Dean said, staring at it, "I-I love it."

He pulled it on, over his head. Sam just looked satisfied, and a little sad. Haven just felt hollow, empty. Christmas wasn't anything special, but at least she had Dean and Sam, even if dad was off.

What if Sam was right? What if he wasn't alive? Even if he was still alive, he could be dead at any moment. And that thought terrified her. Dad had been invincible in her eyes for so long, the one constant in an ever-changing life, that she felt lost. Everything had changed, suddenly, and she wasn't sure how she liked it now.

* * *

 **Lookit our smart little Sammy, being like his sister! We're so proud.**

 **From here on, the chapters are going to get longer. As Haven grows up, they will grow with her, so fun stuff.**

 **Next chapter: Remember the big blank in Haven's memory? We're finally addressing it! Woohoo! All aboard the hype train! Woot woot!**

 **I'm a mess XD**


	7. Chapter 7: There's Something Wrong

**Thank you everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed! I can't believe how much support and love this story is getting so far, my mind is officially blown. So here it is, the chapter you have all been waiting for-we find out what's following Haven, and more!**

 **Half a year timeskip has occurred. Dean is twelve, Sam is eight. It is sometime in July, and Haven will be turning eleven soon (hinty hint hint hint).**

 **With that in mind, I own nothing. Don't steal my idea though, I will not be happy, just saying. I worked really hard to create this story, so thieving it would be very rude. So don't do it. Kisses!**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: There's Something Wrong With Me**

Haven towel dried her dripping black locks, watching Dean and Sam play some sort of card game. She purposefully flicked some water from her hair at Dean, a smirk on her face, as she watched them.

"Would you stop that?! I'm trying to beat Sam." Dean exclaimed, a look of concentration on his face.

"It's just water, Dean. Not like it's going to hurt you or anything." she replied with a shrug, before returning to the cramped bathroom to hang the towel up on the rack, going back to the main room with that task complete. She quickly tired of watching them play, turning instead to the book she had borrowed from the local library.

Haven wasn't sure how long she remained absorbed in her book. All she knew is that the door suddenly burst open with a loud _bang!_ , making her jump violently, the book falling to the ground at her feet. She automatically went for the gun closest to her, only for it to fly from her hands as soon as she had gotten in into her grasp. Haven's head whipped over to face the intruder, taking in crazed brown eyes, long and matted hair that may have also been brown, and a filthy black dress of some sort, which was odd because he was noticeably male. It also looked hot and uncomfortable-it was the middle of summer, why was he wearing something so heavy? The man held a long, elegant stick between his fingers, grinning at her in a predatory sort of way. His whole appearance sent shivers down her spine-the filth, the clear insanity. Above all, something was just so _familiar_ about him, she just couldn't remember why. Her instinct said to run, to get as far away from this man as was physically possible and never look back. If she didn't, something terrible would happen, she would get hurt.

Dean and Sam were at the table a few feet away, Dean standing in front of Sam, though neither of them had weapons. It took a second for her to notice that the weapons they must have picked up had been thrown to the side, probably as hers had been.

"Who are you?" Dean inquired, his voice sounding assertive, though his face betrayed his fear. " _What_ are you?"

The man just started laughing, a cruel sound, "You presume to speak to _me,_ filth? Leave the conversation to those with power."

He flicked the wrist of the hand holding the long stick, muttering some gibberish. Light exploded from the stick, hitting Dean, and then Sam. Dean opened his mouth, but no sound would come out. He tightened his hold on Sam as the stranger turned to Haven, looking as if Christmas had come early.

"What do you want?" Haven asked, her voice just a squeak of sound due to her fear. Why was she so afraid?

"It's quite simple, really. All I need you to do is to show me the power you used to vanquish the Dark Lord." the man said.

"What? Dark Lord?" she repeated, confused. Power? What power? She hadn't vanquished anything but monsters. Was he talking about one of those?

"You stupid child, you think I would be fooled by that?! I know that you are not ignorant. I may have once failed, but I will discover what power you hold, before that old fool gets you, where I can't easily reach you! This time, you'll show me… this time…" he rambled, staring at her like he was waiting for power to come bursting out of her.

"I-I have no idea what you are talking about." she replied hesitantly. There weren't any weapons nearby, unless you counted a chair. Maybe a distraction, so she could get a gun? What weapons would harm him, anyway? She wasn't sure exactly what he was, maybe a witch? The gun was probably her best bet, but how was she going to get her hands on one without drawing attention to herself? His attention was fixed on her.

"You aren't convincing me, little miss girl-who-lived. I know you are hiding it. Why are you hiding it? No, matter, I'll find your weakness, I know you better now. I've watched you for years, waiting for you to show your power, yet you never have. You are too careful, but it doesn't matter. I'll force it out of you if I have-"

A gunshot rang through the air. The man doubled over in surprise, a scream wrenched from his throat. She realized that Sam had shot him, he was holding the shotgun with trembling hands, still aimed at the man. He growled, pointing the stick at his wound. The pain faded from his face. He straightened, quickly turning to Sam with a terrifying expression on his face.

"You _dare?!_ You'll pay for that, oh yes. Maybe this will make the girl be more forthcoming with her power… _Crucio!"_

As soon as the man shouted the last word, Sam collapsed to the ground, a bloodcurdling, awful scream tearing from his body. She flinched violently at the terrible sound. Oh god, Sam. He was in terrible pain, how? The man wasn't touching him.

 _The man…_ Her gaze was drawn up to the man. She didn't know how, but he was hurting _her Sammy…_

Her vision went crimson red, and suddenly the handgun that Sam had used to shoot the man was in her hands. Without stopping to think, she was aiming at the man, who didn't even have time to react before she'd shot him once, twice, three times, four, five, before she finally dropped the gun from shaking hands. The man, staring at her even in death, crumpled to the ground, eyes accusatory.

She ran over to Sam's limp form, hands grasping the sparkly baton that lay a few feet away from him, the one given to him last Christmas, that she had taken to carrying because he didn't want it.

"Sam?! Sam!" Dean yelled, running over to Sam with her, shaking him once he got there.

"I-I'm okay." Sam whispered, quivering like a leaf in a hurricane. Her own hands shaking, she hit him on the head with the baton, very lightly.

"You forgot to double tap." she cried, tears falling from her eyes.

His smile was shaky, "That was my Christmas present, it's not fair for you to hit me with it."

"Well, you didn't want it!" she replied, throwing her arms around him and beginning to sob. Dean joined in the hug, she could see he was shaken, but thought it best not to comment.

"What was that thing?" Sam asked, pulling back from the group hug. His trembling had faded of the most part.

"I don't know." Dean admitted, "Haven?"

She shook her head, "I don't either… I don't get it. What _power?_ I don't have any _power._ I didn't vanquish any Dark Lords. But Dean, I think he's what's been following us."

"I think so, too." Dean said, glancing over at the dead body of their attacker. She glanced back, too, bile rising in her throat. He just looked so… _human._ He wasn't like a ghost, or anything else. Sure, he'd used that stick to do some pretty weird things, but she still felt absolutely horrified. She couldn't take her eyes away from the limp body, laying there right in the middle of the floor.

Haven let out a short bark of laughter as she thought, _that's going to be hell to clean up._

She then clamped a hand to her mouth to keep herself throwing up, feeling nauseous from the very thought.

"Haven." Dean said. She looked up at him, finally tearing her eyes away from the man she had killed…

 _She had killed._

 _Murdered._

Her hands were shaking in her lap, she looked down on them, trying to will them to stop. Her throat tightened. Air, she needed air. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe!

"Haven."

 _Murderer._

 _Killer._

 _Monster._

"Haven!"

Her eyes snapped up to Dean once more. She just stared at him, trying to draw in breath. Looking at him calmed her down a little, she could breathe again, though her breath still came quickly, her heart racing. She felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Finally, she whispered between little gasps, "Oh, god. Dean, I killed someone."

Sam wrapped his arms around her, "Yeah, but he was hurting me."

Haven just started crying again, trying to stop her rapid breathing, an arm hugging Sam, her head coming to rest on the top of his.

"Haven, you have to breathe." Dean told her, staring right at her.

"I'm- trying-" she gasped. Her chest hurt, but she couldn't slow the quick little puffs of air being forced in and out.

"Haven. Look at me." Dean ordered. "Breathe in, slowly… Then out. In… out. That's it. In… Out."

She tried, and gradually her breathing slowed.

"Thank you, Dean." she whispered, hugging tighter to Sam. She must have freaked him out with her panicked breathing, poor thing was already traumatized enough. She felt slightly guilty, she shouldn't have panicked. But she couldn't help it, she was a killer.

"Don't mention it." he murmured back.

That night, during her watch (though Dean had insisted he allow her more rest, like she had gotten any in the first place), she had an odd thought. Hadn't the gun been next to Sam? How did it get into her hands?

She frowned, thinking back. She had been watching the man hurting Sam, and wanted to hurt him, make him stop, protect her Sam. Suddenly, the gun was just in her hands. One second empty, next second there was a gun and she was shooting.

How had it gotten there? She hadn't moved-the gun had moved!

 _Show me the power you used to vanquish the Dark Lord._

That was ridiculous, of course he had been insane. She didn't have any mysterious 'power'. She was just Haven Winchester, Hunter-in-Training.

But how else had the gun gotten into her hands, if she hadn't used some 'power' to move it?

She didn't have any answers to that.

When their dad returned to the room from his current Hunt, they quickly informed him of what had occurred while he was gone. Haven had almost been sick multiple times trying to clean up the mess left behind, but she had to do it. She couldn't stand a dirty environment, it made her skin crawl.

Their dad disposed of the body, though he seemed relieved that the whole affair was over, that they were no longer being followed by a mad man. He congratulated Haven for killing the man, said it was very brave of her. That it was the right thing to do, that the man was some sort of monster that needed to be killed to save many lives.

If that was so, why did she feel so terrible? She still felt like a murderer. Haven talked to Dean about it. He told her that she wasn't a murderer, that she was protecting Sam, as she had promised.

That made her feel a little better, but not much. She even told Dean that she wasn't sure how the gun had gotten into her hands. He said she must have picked up one that was near her. She knew there hadn't been one near her, and that the one she had used had been the one Sammy had, but didn't argue the point.

She wondered how Sam was doing after what had happened. He acted as if he was fine, but she doubted that was the truth. He might talk to Dean, but she doubted he'd say a thing to her on the subject.

Their dad thought it would be best to move on. Haven was grateful-she could still see where the man had lain dead on the floor.

They packed their belongings quickly, all three children wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

As they passed by the front desk of the motel, man there said, "You were in room 113, right? I got a letter here for a Miss A. Potter."

Their dad glared at the man, snatching up the heavy letter as Haven's face drained of color.

 _Miss A. Potter…_

 _Alexandrite Haven Potter_

 _Scared, abandoned, alone, powerless, orphaned…_

"Must have gotten the wrong address. We don't have an A. Potter," their dad informed the man dismissively, about to throw the letter back on the desk before Haven interrupted him.

"A-Actually… Dad, that's me." Haven interrupted, her voice small. "Alexandrite Potter."

He looked at her, and she gulped. Slowly, his gaze returned to the letter. "Who sent you this?"

"I don't know." she whispered, her voice small. He handed it to her. She glanced at Dean, realizing her mistake a little too late. He looked like he had been punched in the stomach. They had been telling each other everything for years, her real name must have come as a blow. Must have made him think: _What else didn't she tell me?_

"Then read it."

It was indeed addressed to her: Ms. A. Potter. It had her complete current address, complete with what bed she had been sleeping in. She turned it over, seeing a seal bearing a coat of arms. There was a lion, eagle, badger, and snake surrounding a large H.

Who knew her old name?

She opened it carefully, before dropping it once she caught sight of the first words on the page- _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

* * *

 **Whelp. Death Eaters are freaks. Haven just can't catch a break, can she? Looks like we'll see the consequences of that letter next chapter... Don't you just love cliff hangers?**

 **John definitely won't react very well to this, huh? How do you think Haven's getting out of this one?**


	8. Chapter 8: Staring Down the Barrel

**Here it is, the reaction to the letter. Just as explosive as promised! Thank you everyone who has been keeping up with the craziness, you are awesome. When I started writing this, I didn't really imagine I'd be getting so many readers. Guys, over _400_ people follow this. O.O It's kinda scary, wanting to show all these people a story they'll enjoy. But I think I'm up for the task, so who's ready for the showdown? **

**Also: Death Eater dude wasn't Snape. Yeah, no, she just killed some random I generated for plot. He's not too important right now, just give it a few years. He'll come up again, as will her lost memories.**

 **Remember last chapter when I said I owned nothing?... yeah... that hasn't change.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Staring Down the Barrel**

Haven wasn't sure what she was seeing- _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ Why would a bunch of _witches_ send her a letter, how did they even know who she was!? Why was there even a school for witches, and why contact a _Hunter,_ of all people? Didn't they know who was raising her, who was training her? Were they absolutely insane?

Their father looked at her oddly, before picking up the letter and envelope, freezing when he caught sight of the very words that had so affected Haven. Then, he grabbed her upper arm, growling something under his breath. He led her out of the building, with a confused pair of brothers trailing after, knowing better than to ask questions when they caught the look on their father's face.

This wasn't going to be good.

They kept going, until they were hidden from sight. Then, their dad turned to her, waving the letter in front of her face.

"What is this?" he asked. She gulped-he was terrifying, his voice far more dangerous than she had ever heard it.

"I-I don't know." she whispered, staring at her father figure in fright. He'd never been like this with her, not once. She was utterly petrified. This… this was how he treated the monsters they hunted. Not her. Never her.

"Why was it sent to you? Did you contact this… school?" he spat out the word school, his eyes burning with hatred.

She had turned from the Hunter to the monster.

"No! No, I didn't! I've never heard of it, I promise!" she cried. "I don't know what they are, or how they found me, or anything. I don't know why they sent me a letter."

Then it hit her like a punch in the gut- _Show me the power you used to vanquish the Dark Lord._

Power… was she a _witch?!_

She tried to push the idea away, but it had latched onto her now. What if she really was a witch? The clues all added up to it.

Maybe… maybe her dad was approaching this the right way. If she was a witch, she was dangerous.

But how come she didn't know it, if she was? She was torn between the two: _witch or Hunter. Hunter or witch._

So which one was it?

"How do I know you aren't lying? You lied about your name for years now." his voice was dark, twisted.

She wasn't lying, as far as she knew. Her name was a different story, something she could argue and back up, not something she doubted.

"I just- I'm sorry! I just, I didn't like it, I hated it. I didn't want to be Alexandrite any more, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry!" the last words weren't just aimed at him-she looked right at Dean when she said them. She hoped he understood, that he would really understand that she was sorry, but she wanted to be Haven Winchester, she didn't want to be Alexandrite Potter.

"After I took you in, _this_ is what I get?!" he waved the parchment in the air, glaring at her, "I take you in like you were my own daughter, only to find out you are some kind of- of witch, and that you're going of to some school for training!"

"It's not like that, I'm not a witch! Daddy, I'm not a witch, I don't want to be one! I don't want to go to the school, I wanna stay with you!" she wailed, the area behind her nose burning, signalling incoming tears. She hoped she wasn't a witch, she didn't remember being one, but… but what if she was? What if dad was right? Maybe… maybe she was a witch. Maybe that was how the gun had gotten into her hands. Maybe that's why it was so easy to kill the man, because she really was a monster.

"I should just kill you now." her dad's voice was so calm, so serious. Her eyes widened in disbelief. It was all just… too much. Too much at once. She wanted to hide under the blankets like a small, scared child. The uncertainty and doubt ate away her resolve, her ability to argue. What could she do? What should she do?

Maybe it would be better if he did kill her.

 _Monster._

 _Witch._

"But… dad…" she whispered, body trembling. This had to be some kind of nightmare, it didn't feel real.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't." Dad growled, hand reaching inside his jacket to draw out a gun. Her eyes locked onto it. She tried to say something, but her vocal chords wouldn't work, she barely got any sound out at all. Haven watched as the gun slowly pointed upwards, aimed at her chest. Still, no words would form. Her blood pounded in her ears. Was he going to shoot her? Were Sam and Dean going to have to watch her die, without explanation? Why couldn't she stop this?

 _Say something! Anything, damn it! Open your mouth and speak! It isn't that hard!_

She tried, she really did. But the sound died in her throat, silenced by the sight of her dad and the gun meant to kill her, and the thought that maybe it was what she deserved.

"Dad, no!" Sam shouted, jumping in front of her just as their dad's finger began to hover over the trigger.

"Sam, move out of the way!" Dad ordered.

"I won't! Why are you doing this? You can't kill Haven!" Sam cried, refusing to move out of the way. Haven was surprised that Sam was the one to react, she would have thought she was closer to Dean.

But this was dad, of course Dean wasn't going to try protesting. Sam was more argumentative, he didn't blindly follow orders. He wanted to know why, which had led to a few fights between him and their dad, who wasn't used to being questioned. Dean was probably just too shocked to react yet. She certainly was.

"Sam. Don't make me say it again." their dad replied. Sam stubbornly stayed put, chin jutting out in defiance.

"Sam, she's a witch, get out of the way!" Dad yelled, looking angry but unwilling to hurt his son. A pang of hurt hit her-she thought that he would have felt the same about her.

 _But I'm just a monster and an orphan… I'm not his daughter._

Her little brother frowned, glancing back at her before looking back to their dad, still refusing to move from where he stood.

Scowling, John began to march forward, but then Dean finally intervened, "Wait, dad, what is going on?"

"She is a witch, Sam, _move!"_ John hissed.

"You must have gotten something wrong, Haven isn't a witch." Dean replied, she could tell he was attempting to act casual, masking his uncertainty.

"She is at least in contact with them, if she isn't already." John argued. Finally, she found her voice.

"I'm not in contact with them! I don't even know where the letter came from, or why! Dad, I… I…" she whimpered, shaking from head to toe as tears prickled in her eyes. She blinked them away. Their dad's eyes narrowed, but Sam and Dean both stood in front of her, Dean also unconsciously blocking Sam from sight.

"Fine. Sam, Dean, we're leaving." he said, lowering the gun, but not putting it away.

"We-We're not going to leave Haven, are we?" Sam asked, probably using his puppy eyes to full effect. He was good at that.

Dad didn't answer, keeping the gun in his hand as he stalked away, towards the car. Dean, with a betrayed glance her way, followed after. She didn't move, frozen on the spot. Was she supposed to follow, too? Would Dad kill her if she did? Where was she supposed to go?

"Haven, come on." Sam said quietly, tugging at her hand. Her eyes focused on him.

"Sam… I… thank you." she murmured, thinking back to the way Sam had stood up to her, even with the accusations of her being a witch thrown around, and her not even knowing herself if she was one. Haven followed Sam as he pulled her to the car, barely registering what she was doing. She just felt… detached. Empty. Thoughts swirled in her head, but she couldn't focus on any particular one.

Haven climbed into the car next to Sam, not noticing the way her Dad glared. The long drive was eerily silent. Haven was dimly surprised that her dad hadn't ordered her to get out of the car yet. She had no energy left to try and talk to him about what had happened, none at all. She just stared out of the window, watching the rain. At some point, she might have slept.

Over the next few weeks, they constantly traveled. Everywhere they went, the letters followed. As paranoid Hunters, the thought that someone could find them so easily was quite unnerving. The arrival of every letter was another tear into her relationships with both Dean and her dad. Dean didn't have to say that every letter was a punch to the gut, she just knew. She was his sister, of course she knew.

Her birthday passed with no celebration at all. Sam, for his part, tried, but they had been moving every few days, at the arrival of every letter. It was better this way, honestly. No one was in the mood to celebrate, much less Haven.

Their dad found a hunt in early August, finally leaving Haven and the boys for the first time since the letters began coming in. He wouldn't have done it if Uncle Bobby hadn't asked him to do it, if it hadn't been so urgent. As it was, he threatened to kill her should any harm come to his boys. The only reason he hadn't done so already was due to Sam and Dean.

The first night after John's departure, when Sam had fallen asleep, she saw her chance to make things right with Dean. So, steeling herself, she sat down next to him on the couch.. He didn't even acknowledge her, staring at the car magazine in his hands. She bit her lip, wondering how she would start. She wanted him to understand why she had done as she had, that she hadn't contacted the school. Slowly, she took a deep, steadying breath.

"Dean." Haven said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't look up. She would have thought he was ignoring her completely, if he hadn't nodded at her.

"I wasn't trying to keep something from you, not really. It's just… I hated my name. I wanted a new start, and thought that if I could change my name, I could change me. I could be someone who was worthwhile, someone who wasn't afraid, who wasn't alone, who wasn't abandoned. I didn't like me. So I wanted to be someone else. I don't see myself as Alexandrite Potter anymore, she's in the past. I'm Haven Winchester now, and I like it that way. I didn't think it would hurt you, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything." she explained, not pausing. She needed to get it out, she needed Dean.

Dean closed the magazine, but he didn't look up, "I… I think I get it."

She nodded, that was progress. "Thank you Dean. Also, I swear, I never contacted that school, I've never ever heard of it until that letter came."

"Haven, I know." Dean replied, "I saw your face, you didn't know about it."

Haven gave him a quick hug, relieved. With that out of the way, she could get her relationship with her brother back to the way it had been.

Why couldn't fate have just left it alone?

BOOM.

Both Dean and Haven sprung up, grabbing the nearest weapons. Sam woke with a yelp, jumping out from the bed and getting his hands on the nearest gun..

BOOM.

"Is someone… _knocking_ on the door?" Sam hissed at them quietly, all three of them aiming their guns towards the entrance.

"Be quiet and stay here." Dean ordered, edging closer to the door.

BOOM.

The door finally gave out, swinging off of it's hinges and landing on the floor. Without pausing, they each shot at the giant that stood at the doorway.

"Don't shoot!" the giant called, holding his hands up. The shots had all hit him, but they didn't seem to have hit anything important. In fact, he hardly seemed hurt at all, as though the bullets had barely broken skin.

Haven paused. Shooting didn't have much effect. Did she have any knives on her?... yes, there was one. How to reach it without giving it away…

Dean readjusted the gun, "You just broke in. Why shouldn't we?"

"I'm not gonna hurt yeh." the giant said, shaking his wild mane. "Let me just fix this…"

The man stepped inside, picking up the door and fitting it back within the frame. The three of them watched him, waiting for him to make an aggressive move. What was he? He couldn't be human, the bullets would have done serious harm, then. Not one of them lowered their guns.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Dean asked.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." the man answered, holding his hand out for Dean to shake. Dean just stared at it, refusing to shake the giant's hand. The man, for his part, just chuckled, lowering the hand after it became obvious that Dean wouldn't shake it.

"I told you to stop contacting my sister!" Sam interrupted, peeking out from behind Haven, "In the letter I sent back with that funny owl."

Haven looked back at Sam quizzically. He'd contacted the school… for her? Her heart warmed in her chest. Even if it was dangerous, he'd tried to get them to stop.

"There was a bit of a misunderstandin' that Dumbledore asked me to clear up for yeh. Ah, there yeh are, Alexan'rite! Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes." Rubeus Hagrid said, studying her with a smile. This information stunned her, but she forced herself to act as if his words didn't affect her one bit.

"My name is Haven. And what misunderstanding? I'm not going to a school for witches, period, because I'm not one." she argued, gun still pointed at him, though inside she was in turmoil. This man… knew her parents? He had seen her as a baby? Why were her parents known by a giant of a man who worked at a school for witches?

Most importantly, how did he find her, and who was this 'Dumbledore'?

"Why, of course you are, and a thumpin' good one I'd wager, given who yer parents were." the man continued merrily. Panic flared in her chest. Here was another person, backing up the claim that she was a witch. There was too much evidence against her, she felt trapped. There was no way… but yet there was.

"I'm not! If this is some kind of joke, I am not amused! Get out!" Haven shouted immediately, trying to shake away her doubt and failing spectacularly. It was evident in her voice, Dean and Sam would surely pick up on it and then they wouldn't take her side any longer. Her finger hovered over the trigger, uncertainty plaguing her.

"Yeh were born a witch, just like yer mum." Rubeus Hagrid argued, black eyes twinkling merrily. "Yeh sound just like 'er, too."

"Witches aren't _born."_ she hissed, desperately holding on to the part of her that argued she couldn't be a witch, that she was a Hunter, "And I certainly don't kill people in my spare time. I hunt witches, actually."

"Why, of course you don't kill people, only Dark Wizards do that, and ones that get their power from demons." Rubeus Hagrid said with a small frown, "Dumbledore did say you were raised by Hunters… never met one, meself."

"How does this _Dumbledore_ know so much?" Dean asked, glancing back at Haven and Sam. None of them were quite sure what to do in this situation, what to make of this information.

"Wise man, Dumbledore. Knows a lot o' things, he does." Rubeus Hagrid remarked, before clapping his hands together, making a sound akin to thunder, "Right, so we have a long journey back."

"We?" Sam repeated.

"Of course! Yer comin' with me, aren't yeh, Alex, I can call yeh that, right?" the giant said.

"It's Haven, and I'm going nowhere with you, certainly not to that school of yours." she replied.

"But yeh gotta train yer magic somewhere, otherwise it'll be dangerous. The great Alexan'rite Potter, not attend Hogwarts?" the giant scoffed.

"What do you mean, 'dangerous'? Assuming I buy any of this about me having some sort of magic I was born with." Haven asked, the gun lowered slightly, though still ready at need. This was hope-a witch that might not be a killer. An explanation that put her in a more favorable light.

"Well, have yeh ever done somethin' yeh couldn't explain? When you were angry or scared?" the giant asked her. Realization dawned on her.

 _The gun… The one I shot the crazy man with…_

Wide green eyes stared at the giant man, who chuckled.

"That kinda thin' only gets worse as yeh get older an' yer magical core matures, if yeh don' learn control." he informed her, "Others can get hurt. Muggles might see, an' then yeh'll really be in trouble."

"Muggles?" Sam asked, "And what's a magical core?"

His eyes were bright, excited at learning something new.

"Muggles are just non-magical folk, such as you and yer brother here." he motioned to Dean, smiling at him. Dean just glared back.

"The magical core is where yer magic comes from, if yeh get it naturally." the giant informed them, "Someone else would 'ave a better explanation."

"But… I don't want to leave." Haven said, biting her lip. She didn't want Sam or Dean to get hurt, or anyone to find out she had magic of some sort. If her dad knew… she'd be dead, without a doubt. The only thing protecting her currently were her siblings and the lack of magic performed before him.

"I'm sure if you don' like it Dumbledore'll let you come back here. Just try it-there's a great many folks excited to meet yeh. Yer parents were bright young things, shame what happened. Was just so sad, yeh know?" Rubeus Hagrid said, wiping teary eyes.

"No… I don't know. Didn't they die in a car crash?" Haven asked, frowning.

"Lily an-Lily and James Potter, die in a car crash! No, they were murdered, by the same person who gave yeh that scar… I can't believe yeh don't know about this, Dumbledore said yeh probably wouldn't… but every child in our world knows the story, an…" the giant man scratched his head in thought, before sighing. "So do yeh want ter try comin' to Hogwarts?"

"I… maybe…" she murmured, lost in thought. Be a danger to her family, or leave them? She hadn't been away from Sam or Dean since she was six. How could she leave? Dean was as much a part of her as her arms.

"You aren't _seriously_ considering this." Dean said, glaring back at her, "Family doesn't leave family."

"But it's dangerous if she doesn't learn to control it. It's not like she'll be gone forever, and when she gets back the magic she learns will be useful when hunting." Sam said, looking excited, "Haven, you _have_ to go, and when you come back you can tell me _everything!"_

"I…" she bit her lip, thinking it over. Sam was right. It would help with hunting, and she would come back. If she missed her family too badly, she could return. With how things were going, if she stayed, her dad might kill her. If she gave it time, his anger might lessen.

If she didn't go, there was a possibility that Sam and Dean could be hurt.

That decided matters, "I think… I'll go."

"But you can't leave us!" Dean shouted at her. _But you can't leave me._

"She's not going to be gone long, Dean, you'll see." Sam said, walking over to Dean to put a hand on his arm. Dean wrenched it away, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Wait, Dean-" she called after him, about to rush after him when Sam grabbed her arm to prevent this.

"He'll come around, Haven. He just needs a minute." Sam said, frowning at the door, before a smile encompassed his face, "So you're going?! You'll have to stay in touch. Oh, and we'll have to pack your things! What all do you need?"

Haven looked to the giant helplessly, unsure of what to do. On one hand, she didn't want to disappoint Sam… but if Dean was angry with her…

Maybe he just needed time, like Sam said.

Rubeus Hagrid chuckled, "It says what yeh'll be needin' in the letter. Here, I brought one for yeh."

He held out the letter that she had come to hate. She quickly scanned through the list of things she would need, frowning.

"I don't have any of this stuff. Where am I going to get the money for this?" she asked worriedly, "Maybe I'll just stay afterall."

"Did yeh think yer parents would have left yeh with nothin'? No, we're payin' a visit to yer vault first." the man said.

"I… have a _vault?!"_ she repeated, hardly believing it. What happened to the parents who had been irresponsible drunks? Now they were magical, and left her money? She wondered how much, probably not a lot. She could make money stretch at need, she just needed to know what she was dealing with here.

"'Course yeh do. Why don't you two pack all yer things, and we'll head out. We have a long way ter go." the giant said, taking a seat on the couch. It sagged under his weight.

With Sam's help, she shoved all she owned into her bag. Once the bag was full, she pulled Sam into a hug, looking over his head at the door, hoping that Dean would suddenly burst in to give her a hug, too. The door stayed closed, oblivious to her wishes.

"I'll see you soon, Haven. You'll have to tell me all about the people you meet, and the things you learn." Sam ordered, voice muffled by her shirt.

"I'll miss you, Sammy." Haven replied.

"Me too. Love you, sis." Sam whispered.

Haven pried him away, "I love you too. Look after Dean and dad for me, okay?"

He nodded eagerly, "I will!"

"So are you ready ter go?" Mr. Hagrid asked, smiling at the exchange between brother and sister.

She turned to him, picking up her bag, "I guess so."

Haven looked to the door. Dean wouldn't let her leave without saying goodbye, would he? He couldn't.

When they went outside, Dean was nowhere to be found. Her heart sank. She didn't want to leave without hugging him, telling him she loved him.

So instead, she went back inside, telling Mr. Hagrid to wait a moment. She wrote a quick note, telling Sam to give it to him when he returned. That done, she gave him another hug then went back outside with Mr. Hagrid.

This was it. She was leaving, and Dean wasn't there.

* * *

 **Something about the ending still doesn't sit right with me, even though I must have redone it a million times. What can you do?**

 **So this is it. Hogwarts time!... without Dean. :( poor Haven. I do think I was pretty spot on with how each character reacted, so yay!**

 **Hm... how does everyone think this is going to go? Her being alone, suddenly thrust into a world where she is a hero in the spotlight? Oh, and what house do you think I'll chose? I have a house selected and why it happens, but... I like other opinions!**

 **Sammy was adorable. I love him so much right now. Just throwing that out there.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9: That's Not My Name

**So... yeah. Fun stuff. A good portion of this follows closely to the books, mostly because she needs to know that information. Don't worry, the farther into the books we go, the more Haven decides: "Yeah, no, I'm changing things up!" So worry not.**

 **About last chapter:**

 **Dean always seems to translate hurt into anger, so I figured it would be the same here. John discovered the witch thing, and kind of lost it. The using her name thing wasn't so much him angry about it, more of "here's more evidence that you are eeeeevvvviiiiiiilllllll." While he took her in, she is not his blood. He'll get rid of any threat to his children. No, what he did wasn't right, but I believe it was in character for him.**

 **Now it's time for Haven to discover the Wizarding World and her own fame... dear lord, will we survive? I own nothing!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: That's Not My Name**

"Now, Alex, this here is a portkey." Mr. Hagrid informed her, holding out a cookbook. She examined it-it seemed perfectly ordinary.

"What's a portkey?" Haven asked, frowning at the book. A sort of nervous excitement flooded through her. This morning, had someone told her she was going to go with a giant to Hogwarts- well, she certainly wouldn't believe it, probably would have laughed.

"In about a minute, it should glow. Both of us have to be touching it, mind, but it'll bring us t' the Leaky Cauldron. There, it'll be about dawn. We'll get yeh a room to stay in till term starts up. If yeh need to, you can get some sleep, and then we'll get yer school supplies." he explained.

"I don't need sleep." she informed him. "I'll be fine."

She doubted she'd be able to sleep any time soon. She was too nervous, how could she sleep?

Haven bit her lip, searching for a topic of conversation, "So… if they didn't die in a car crash, how did my parents die?"

Mr. Hagrid's face fell, "Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it… It begins, I suppose, with- with a person called- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…"

"But I haven't been in 'your world'" she pointed out, getting a little impatient.

"Well- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No ones does." he replied, shifting from foot to foot.

She tilted her head to the side in contemplation, "Why not? Does saying the name summon him or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just- people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…" The man tried to speak, but no sound came out. She just waited for him to continue.

Finally, he took a great breath, and said, "All right- _Voldemort."_ he shuddered, "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit 'o his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Alex. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, stome stood up to him- 'an he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' them, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an' Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

She tried hard to keep from interrupting with the millions of questions bouncing around in her head. As soon as he finished, she'd ask him about Dumbledore, and anything else she remembered.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'-an'-"

The giant man pulled out a dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

"Sorry." he said. "But it's that sad- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find- anyway… You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead?"

Her right hand flew up to touch the lightning bolt scar. She had always thought she'd gotten it in a crash, that her parents were irresponsible, the scum of the world. Now, she had this man turning that on it's head… just like he had with the magic and witches mumbo jumbo.

Though this Voldemort made her question if witches and wizards really shouldn't be hunted.

"That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even- but it didn't work on you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived." Mr. Hagrid explained. Haven frowned- cursed scar? Alarm bells went off in her head, though she wasn't sure what exactly she could do about the situation. How had she even survived it, if all of these great adults died? She wished she knew more. Her next chance, she'd research this. She did need to get books for school, so maybe she might be able to make the money stretch enough to cover some background research.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Don't know how yeh ended up here…" Mr. Hagrid trailed off.

"'Dumbledore's orders'? Who is this guy?" she inquired curiously.

"Headmaster at Hogwarts, an' the greatest wizard the world has seen since Merlin." Mr. Hagrid answered. Haven could tell he adored this Dumbledore guy.

"Oh. So, do you know what happened to Voldemort?" she asked. The giant flinched violently when she said the name.

"Don' say the name!" he replied.

"Oh, okay…" she trailed off, "So what happened to him?"

"He disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was gettin' more an' more powerful- why'd he go?" Mr. Hagrid answered.

 _I'm… famous?! Did I hear right?_

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Sunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Alex."

"Haven." she corrected, a little annoyed.

"There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on- _I_ dunno what it was, no one does- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right." Mr. Hagrid continued, looking at her with warmth and respect.

"That makes no sense." Haven replied, "Mr. Hagrid-"

"Jus' Hagrid is fine." the giant interrupted.

Haven nodded, before she continued. "How could I survive? Is there any known way it could've happened? Magically, or maybe some sort of barrier that could stop it? Like salt, or something?"

"There's no known way ter stop the killin' curse from killin' yeh, if it hits yeh. Only hope is to dodge it, but how could yeh 'ave?" Hagrid asked. She nodded, but before she could say anything, the book began glowing.

"Quick, grab on!" Hagrid ordered. Quickly, she grabbed on, feeling a tug behind her navel as the world began spinning away, making her dizzy. When they finally landed, she stumbled and fell, landing in an alley, hidden from view.

"Where- Where are we?" she asked, examining their surroundings.

"Portkey spot in London. Come on, 's not too far from here." Hagrid answered, steering her out into the crowded street.

Indeed, they hadn't walked far at all before Hagrid pointed out a dingy little pub, saying, "This is it, the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

She giggled at the silly name. Did wizards name everything oddly? First Hogwarts, now this. They were just begging her to laugh.

Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was dark and shabby. The appearance made her slightly more comfortable, though not by much. She was aware that she was in a new place, on the other side of the world from her family. There was no Dean to steady her, no Sam to share his contagious enthusiasm.

The bald bartender waved to Hagrid, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business." said Hagrid, clapping a hand on her shoulder. She stumbled from the force, quickly righting herself.

"Good Lord," replied Tom the bartender, staring at Haven, "is this- can this be-?"

The entire building had gone completely silent, every eye drawn to her. Uncomfortable, she broke the silence, asking, "Batman?"

She winced as soon as the word left her mouth- really, batman? Why did she say anything at all? Stupid nerves. "So… not funny, okay."

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, his eyes almost impossibly wide, "Alexandrite Potter… what an honor."

The man nearly tripped in his haste to rush forward, grabbing her hand with tears in his eyes, saying, "Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

"Uh- thanks? And it's Haven Winchester." she replied, not too sure what to do. Hagrid had said she was famous, but it was hard to believe. Her, _Haven Winchester_ , famous? Laughable.

There was a great clamour as everyone tried to stand at once. Soon, a huge crowd surrounded her, blocking off her escape. Every single person seemed desperate to meet her, so much so that they couldn't seem to grasp the concept of personal space.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"Thanks, it's Winchester though-"

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Oh, well, it's actually Winchester, hasn't been Potter in years-"

"Always wanted to shake your hand- I'm all of a flutter."

"Oh, that's… nice?"

"Delighted, Ms. Potter-"

" _Winchester!"_

"-just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

The crowd didn't seem to have an end, especially since several people came back again and again, like she didn't have somewhere to be. She found herself wondering what they'd do if she just got fed up and stabbed someone… she did have two knives on her at the moment, and a gun…

No, she had to be civil. It was Dean's job to be the idiot that lost his temper, she was the one with the cool(er) head. Surely this wasn't too bad, it'd be over eventually. Hopefully.

Maybe they'd finally get her name right, too.

A twitchy, thin man that looked like he'd have a heart attack and die if you poked him from behind approached her.

"Professor Quirrell!" boomed Hagrid, "Alex, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.

"P-P-Potter," stammered Quirrell (the Squirrel, she heard a voice sounding suspiciously like Dean add in her head), shaking her hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" she asked curiously, successfully masking her eagerness.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Quirrell, "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?"

As Quirrell the Squirrel laughed nervously, she smiled. "That's very kind of you."

He must have heard about her being raised as a Hunter. She wondered who else had already heard. These wizards already knew what they were, so it wouldn't hurt for her to say anything… would it?

"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." he said, looking like he was close to peeing his pants at the very thought. She wondered why he was so jittery. Professor Quirrell ended up shoved to the side by the other crazies, each of them wanting their turn (first or fifth, whichever it was).

Finally, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the noise, thankfully before she lost it and stabbed someone, "Must get on- lots ter buy. Come on, Alex."

Doris Crockford got in one last handshake as Hagrid led Haven through the bar, into a small, walled courtyard. There was nothing but a trashcan and a few weeds.

"Told yeh, didn't I?" Hagrid said with a smile, "Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" she questioned.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while we was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject- now, where's me umbrella?"

"Wait, but vampires… aren't real." she argued.

"'Course they are." Hagrid replied, "Now… three up… two across. Right, stand back, Alex."

She complied, as Hagrid tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick touched by the pink umbrella wriggled. Her eyes widened as a small hole appeared, growing wider and wider, until it formed an archway big enough for Hagrid to pass through comfortably. On the other side of the archway was a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned as Alex stared, leading her through the archway, which shrunk back into a wall once they had passed through.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. They were all sorts of sizes and materials.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one, but we gotta get yer money first." Hagrid informed her, motioning to the cauldrons. People were everywhere, getting their shopping done. Stores sold all sorts of things- owls, broomsticks, robes, telescopes, books, quills, parchment, potion bottles…

"Why do they sell parchment and quills? Don't they have paper and pencils? Or do you need those for spells or something?" she asked curiously.

"Yeh'll be usin' parchment and quills for schoolwork." he answered her, as her jaw dropped.

"Are we in the freaking _dark ages?!_ Nope, I'm using my pencils and normal paper, at least for notes. Can you even erase quill ink?" she wondered, shaking her head at the crazy wizards. What, did they go places in horse drawn carriages, too? Did they use candles? She'd need to go back home if they didn't have radios. She wouldn't stand for that, no sir.

"There's Gringotts, the bank." Hagrid told her, motioning to a snowy white building that towered over the shops surrounding it. Standing beside its bronze doors was a-

"That's a goblin." said Hagird, leading her up the white stone steps.

 _Goblins?! Are they safe? Should I kill it? Could I?_

The goblin bowed to her as she passed. All she could do was nod, feeling overwhelmed. Inside, there was a second pair of doors, with words engraved on them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid informed her, "Never mess with goblins."

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, leading into a vast marble hall. About a hundred goblins were sitting on high stools, behind a long counter. There were many doors leading off the hall.

"Morning." said Hagrid to a goblin not doing anything, "We've come ter take some money outta Ms. Alexandrite Potter's safe."

"You have her key, sir?" the goblin questioned.

"Got it here somewhere." replied Hagrid. He began emptying his pockets, scattering moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. She didn't blame the goblin for wrinkling his nose.

"Got it." said Hagrid, holding a tiny golden key. She wondered why he had her key. For safekeeping?

"That seems to be in order." the goblin said, leaning closer to examine the tiny key.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore." said Hagrid importantly, "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully, before handing it back and saying, "Very well. I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed the dog biscuits back into his pockets, he and Haven followed Griphook towards a door leading off the hall.

"So… what's the you-know-what in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" she asked curiously.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid, making her curiosity burn higher, "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Sighing, she followed Griphook the goblin through the door, finding a narrow stone passageway lit with torches. She groaned-nope, electricity was not a thing. Great. Freaking fantastic. The passageway sloped steeply downward, ending where there were little railway tracks. Griphook whistled, causing a small cart to come hurtling up the tracks towards them. They all climbed in, and were off.

The rattling cart led itself through a maze of twisting passageways at high speeds. Haven's eyes stung as cold air rushed past them. They plunged deep down into the ground, passing a lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites sprouted from the ceiling and floor.

When the car finally stopped, Hagrid stumbled out and leaned against the wall to stop his knees from trembling, looking a little green. Griphook unlocked the door in the passage wall. When it opened, green smoke billowed out. When it cleared away, Haven couldn't stop the gasp released from her mouth. Inside, gold, silver, and bronze coins were stacked high.

"All yours." smiled Hagrid.

"You have got to be kidding." she replied, taking it all in, "We have to be in the wrong vault. I have _this_ much? I- I think I might be a millionaire."

She sat down among the coins, grabbing a handful and examining them. Haven didn't recognize them.

As Hagrid helped her put some of her money in a bag, he explained, "The gold ones are Galleons. The silver are Sickles, and the bronze ones Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

He handed the bag to her, turning to Griphook, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only." replied Griphook. This time, they went even deeper. The air got colder as they hurtled around tight corners.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole, she noticed when they finally stopped.

"Stand back." order Griphook. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers. The door simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." Griphook informed her.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" she asked.

"About once every ten years." Griphook replied, his grin nasty. Haven leaned forward to get a look at whatever was important enough for such an… interesting vault. At first, she thought it was empty, before her eyes caught sight of a grubby little package in brown paper lying on the floor. Her curiosity roared higher and higher, desperately wanting to know what it was. However, she refrained from asking as Hagrid picked it up and pocketed it.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut." said Hagrid.

The entire cart ride back, she was thinking hard over what could fit in such a little package and yet be so very important. Knowing next to nothing about magic was severely detrimental. Could it be a hex bag? If it was… well, she was a Hunter. She'd figure it out.

* * *

 **I laughed so hard. "Ms. Potter-" "WINCHESTER WINCHESTER WINCHESTER! WHY CAN'T YOU IDIOTS GET IT RIGHT?!"**

 **She is so confused. Hunting knowledge so isn't going to help. Just wait till she meets the Hogwart's ghosts...**

 **You are all awesome humans! Thank you for reading, I hope to see you next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10: Not Yet A Killer

**So this is a little late. However, not only do I have school, but I have recently been hired as a copy editor. So much excite! This chapter, we meet Draco and she writes her first letter to the two knuckleheads back home. Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. We are at chapter 10! Yay! And we have 86 reviews! Double yay!**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Not Yet A Killer**

"Might as well get yer uniform." Hagrid decided, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Alex, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Haven nodded, trying to calm her nerves. It was already bad enough she was here without her family, but now the only familiar figure in this whole place was leaving? Of course she would be fine, it just made her nervous. She entered the shop alone, schooling her features to look confident instead of frightened.

Madam Malkin, a smiling woman in mauve, asked, "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here- a young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with aristocratic features stood on a stool, while a woman pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin led Haven to a stool, throwing a black robe over her head. She began to pin it to the right length and fit. She felt like she was being draped in a bunch of heavy, stifling blankets that offered limited freedom of movement.

"Hello," said the blonde boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy in his bored, drawling voice, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have _you_ got your own broom?"

She replied shortly, "No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope." Haven replied, wondering what on earth the boy was talking about. Now that she had the money, she definitely was buying a pile of books for research.

" _I_ do- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?" the blonde boy asked.

"Not a clue." she replied, wondering if he'd ever shut up.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" the blonde remarked.

"What is so bad about Hufflepuff, besides the name, of course?" she asked casually. Maybe this kid might have some use in providing her with information.

He eyed her critically, "You're American, aren't you? How did _you_ get into Hogwarts?"

Haven shrugged, "My birth parents went there."

He looked pretty interested, "What happened to them? Your parents."

"They died a long time ago." the raven-haired girl replied, voice light as if discussing trivial matters, not the death of her parents.

The boy's face softened slightly, though his eyes were as sharp as ever as he replied in a sympathetic tone, "Oh… I'm sorry."

Silence descended upon them, both lost in thought and not entirely sure what to say. Finally, the blonde boy asked, "Hey, so what's your surname?"

"Winchester." Haven replied, a little happier. Maybe she would get someone to call her by her preferred name. What an odd problem to have, having gone so long without ever hearing the name she was born with being spoken.

The boy, about to say something, was interrupted by Madam Malkin, "That's you done, my dear."

"Thank you very much." Haven replied, hopping down from the footstool she had been standing on.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, then." the pale blonde replied, giving her a quick wave and what seemed to be the boy's equivalent of a smile, a tiny upturning of the lips and a sparkle in his pale eyes.

"See ya, then!" she replied, returning the wave cheerfully. Haven quickly paid for her school robes, gathering them up and entering the alley, looking for Hagrid. She found him walking her way from the Leaky Cauldron, looking much better.

Next, they bought parchment, ink, and quills, which she grumbled over. At least she had thought to bring her school supplies from home. She managed to back up the line when someone recognized her as Alexandrite Potter. They all just kept ignoring her polite corrections, like they were deaf or something. Thankfully, Hagrid managed to get her out before she did anything rash.

On the way to the next shop, she asked, "Hey, Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Alex, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know- not knowin' about Quidditch!" Hagrid said. "Well, Quidditch is our sport. Wizard sport. Everyone follow Quidditch- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls- sorta hard to explain the rules."

"Oh, okay." Haven replied, she'd just look it up later, "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School Houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but better Hufflepuff than Slytherin. There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one." Hagrid informed her, dark edge to his tone.

Intrigued, she inquired, "Vol- oh, right, sorry, You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago." Hagrid answered somewhat uncomfortably. She would have continued her interrogation is they hadn't come to the bookshop called Flourish and Blotts. It was her own, personal heaven: books were stacked from floor to ceiling, of all kinds. It took a large stack of books in her arms and Hagrid half-dragging her out of the store to get her to leave. She'd definitely be paying several visits there whenever possible.

Next, they got a cauldron, weighing scales, and a telescope. Then, they paid a visit to the

Apothecary, which smelled terrible. Despite how much she hated the smell, she was fascinated by all of the things in there. They even had some hunting supplies.

"Just yer wand left- oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a late birthday present." Hagrid informed her once they had exited the Apothecary.

Haven shook her head, "Oh, no, you don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'." Hagrid informed her, steering her towards Eeylops Owl Emporium. She didn't bother arguing anymore- owls carried mail, mail could be sent to her family.

She entered the shop, her eyes instantly drawn to a snowy white owl to one side, who was staring straight at her. Without bothering to look at any of the other animals, she marched straight to the snowy owl.

"This one." she said, stopping in front of the pretty owl. Hagrid laughed, before going off to buy the owl for her.

She carried the owl with her on their way to get her wand, "Oh, thank you Hagrid. She's so lovely."

"Don' mention it," he replied gruffly, "Just Ollivanders left now- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

The shop wasn't as magnificent as she had imagined- it was narrow and shabby. Yet, the air seemed to be alive with magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Haven jumped, hand going to a knife. Her hand relaxed as she took in the image of an old man with wide pale eyes.

"Hello." replied Haven.

"Ah yes." said the man, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Alexandrite Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Haven sighed under Mr. Ollivander's scrutiny.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander said, coming even closer. Haven stepped back, meeting his eyes.

"And that's where…" Mr. Ollivander said, reaching out an arm and touching the lightning shaped scar on her forehead, half-hidden by her wild hair. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head, before his attention came to Hagrid, "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes." Hagrid replied.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, becoming stern. Haven frowned- expelled? Why?

"Er- yes, they did, yes." said Hagrid awkwardly, shuffling his large feet, "I've still got the pieces, though."

"But you don't _use_ them?" asked Mr. Ollivander, rather sharply.

"Oh, no, sir." Hagrid replied quickly, his grip on his pink umbrella tightening.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, staring at Hagrid intently, "Well, now- Ms. Potter. Let me see. Which is your wand arm?"

Mr. Ollivander pulled out a long tape measure from his pocket.

"Well, I'm right handed. Is that what you mean?" Haven asked.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." Mr. Ollivander replied. Obediently, she held up her right arm. The wandmaker measured all sorts of odd things. Why he had to measure around her head, she'd never know.

As he measured, the old man said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter."

"It's Winchester, sir. Haven Winchester." she interrupted firmly. He raised his eyebrows, and continued.

"We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons." he told her, as her eyes widened. Such creatures existed? What were they like?

"No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." he concluded, as the tape measure finished the measurements on its own. Growling, she snatched it out of the air with irritation as Mr. Ollivander began searching the shop for wands. The tape measure went limp in her fist.

"Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Mr. Ollivander instructed. She took it in her right hand, flicking it quickly. Mr. Ollivander snatched it back almost immediately.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-" as Haven took the wand from the wandmaker, the man instantly snatched it back with a little flinch.

"No, no- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." the man said. So Haven tried, feeling a flicker of irritation when once again it was taken from her. She didn't know what the man was waiting for. She went through wand after wand. While she became more irritated, the wandmaker seemed to become more joyful.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." the man said, handing her another wand. She took it with a heavy sigh, abruptly going silent when warmth ran up her fingers. She raised the wand, before swishing it in a small pattern, streams of multicolored spark flowing from it and chasing each other around the shop, throwing light on the walls and floors. Hagrid whooped and clapped.

"Oh, bravo," cried Mr. Ollivander, "Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"

He put the wand back into it's box. She was disappointed to have to let go of it. The old wandmaker just kept muttering 'curious' under his breath.

"Sir, what's curious?" she asked finally. Mr. Ollivander stared at her intently.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why it's brother gave you that scar." he told her. Her gaze snapped down to the wand box.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the witch, remember… I think we must expect great things from you… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great." Mr. Ollivander said gravely. Her fists clenched.

She paid the seven Galleons for the wand, leaving the shop as quickly as she could without seeming desperate.

Hagrid escorted her back to the Leaky Cauldron, helping her bring her things to the room she would be staying in until school started. He gave her her ticket for the train she'd take to get to the school, and how to summon the bus that could take her there. Once he left, she fell onto the bed and slept until the middle of the night. Once she woke up, she took a piece of paper and a pencil out and started writing a letter to Sam and Dean, glaring at the candle that provided her with light. She had barely been there, and already she had so much to tell them about.

 _Dear Sam and Dean,_

 _I haven't been gone for more than a day yet, and already I have so much to tell you two! First off: apparently I'm famous because I was too stubborn to die when a madman decided to kill me. He killed my birth parents, actually. Unfortunately, these stupid wizards keep ignoring me when I try to tell them what my name is. If one more person calls me Ms. Potter, I might become a murderer! Then you'll have to help me escape Wizard Jail (if there is a Wizard Jail)._

 _As soon as I finish some of these books I bought, I'll send them to you, Sam. I just know you're dying to get your hands on them!_

 _Stop making that face over Sam's shoulder, Dean._

 _Has dad come back yet?... is he mad at me? Tell him I said sorry, and that I love him._

 _I have a wand. The wandmaker was really creepy. The wand that chose me (yeah, wands choose you, weird, right?) is holly with a phoenix feather core. I can't wait to see a phoenix! Also, unicorns, dragons, and vampires exist. I was surprised too. Maybe they have different creatures here- I've certainly never seen a dragon (though I'd like too, if it didn't eat me first)._

 _The bank here is run by goblins. Goblins! The vaults are all underground. They seem to be really well protected._

 _You'll never believe this: wizards live in the freaking dark ages! No electricity, no phones, not even pencils and normal paper! I have to do all of my assignments on parchment and write with quills! There might be a chance I'm coming straight back, just because of that. And then there are the robes. Yes, wizards wear_ robes. _That is actually the school uniform! They are actually not as restricting as I thought they would be, but still quite bad._

 _I did meet another kid that will be in the same year as me. I didn't ever catch his name, though. He seemed a bit like a spoiled brat, but not too bad, all things considered. I'm pretty sure he is the only one who didn't call me Potter at some point (he didn't recognize me, so I could actually introduce myself)._

 _I think, for the duration of my stay in Diagon Alley (the wizard shopping place), I'll have to wear some form of disguise. People just swarm me everywhere I go, it's crazy! All I did was not die, and now I'm some sort of hero. Freaking wizards._

 _Apparently, there are these things called 'Houses' that we get sorted into at this school. So far, I only know about Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The names they give these things, though! All I know is that no one takes a Hufflepuff seriously and that Slytherins are supposed to be evil overlords. I'm not sure how accurate that is, as the kid I was talking to wanted to be a Slytherin, and he wasn't way too terrible, he just wouldn't shut up. He said his whole family has been in there. Maybe it depends on where your parents went. I really don't know, but I'll tell you about it when I do._

 _I did meet one of my teachers. He seems to be afraid of his own shadow; kept stuttering the whole time I talked to him. He teaches a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts. From a comment he made, I think people here already know I'm a Hunter._

 _There's also a really weird sport that everyone keeps talking about here called something really stupid. Kwedich, maybe? I'm not really sure. All I know about it is that the players fly around on broomsticks and kids here know how to fly on them. Also, magic can teleport people. It's not very pleasant though. The landing is pretty difficult, too, but it's still really convenient._

 _I think I've told you guys everything. I should probably stop rambling before Dean gets too annoyed, wouldn't want you to do anything rash, brother._

 _With love,_

 _Haven_

 _P.s. By the way, I am a millionaire now. No joke. The vault my birth parents left me was filled with money._

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 **Special thanks to justaislinn for parts of the letter. You are my favoritest ever! What do you guys think? You know I love opinions! See you all next chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11: I've Got Everything To Prove

**Thank you all so much for the continued support! You all make me so happy, just so you know. 9... 7... reviews. _97._ My dear lord. **

**So, this chapter is a little short, because we're finishing up Diagon so next chapter we can go to the Hogwarts Express. This chapter we're meeting two familiar characters. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

 **I own nothing. You would be the first to know if I did own something. Trust me.**

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 **Chapter 11:** **I've Got Everything To Prove**

Haven surveyed herself in the tiny mirror that hung on the wall in her room. She had pulled her hair into a messy bun, with some strands left hanging down to partially hide her scar, which seemed to be the main identifier people used. A pair of round glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, making her eyes look smaller, drawing attention away from them.

She probably wouldn't manage to remain incognito for long, but a disguise was worth a shot, at least. Haven had a few things she wanted to buy- namely, a camera. One of her books had said there was a way to use magic to animate photos, a potion she could buy and develop the film in. She found it slightly annoying that wizards would use cameras but not something simple like regular paper, or pens. Nope, just cameras. Did they possess any sort of logic at all?

Her reading had given her more information on the world she now found herself in. The society that wizards had made for themselves was interesting. Twisted, yes, but interesting.

Haven grabbed her room key and money, exiting the room and walking into the main room, keeping her head ducked down and hoping the bartender wouldn't draw notice to her by calling out her name or something. As she made her way through the dimly lit room, she caught a conversation between a few excited-looking witches and wizards.

"Did you hear? Alexandrite Potter's supposed to be staying here. _Here!"_

"Maybe we'll see her. Do you think we could find out what room she's in? I wonder if we'd be let in, just for a peek."

"I can't wait to meet her. My sister got to shake her hand!"

Scowling, she exited the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. If anyone entered the room she was staying in, she'd shoot them without remorse. Such crazy people, she was just a regular (sort of) human being. She wasn't some animal at the zoo to stare at.

The raven-haired girl strolled along, looking around at all of the things at her own leisure. She got herself a camera, and began taking pictures to send to Dean and Sam (once she learned how to make them move).

As she continued, she suddenly felt like someone was watching her. Haven looked around, but no one was visibly looking. She continued on, but the presence still followed.

"It's Alexandrite Potter!"

 _Damn it all._

She was suddenly surrounded on all sides, almost like the mob had carefully planned how and when they would trap her. They were pushing and shoving, jostling her about, each wanting to touch her, speak to her, anything. It was utterly terrifying- for all her skill and knowledge, it was likely she would be trampled by the mob if she couldn't get out. She could hardly breathe, she had no room to move. It was so loud, so chaotic. Her head pounded as blood roared in her ears. She was growing lightheaded, her breath coming too quick.

"This way." a boy's voice hissed in her ear, "I'll help you out, just grab onto my hand."

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak as a hand grabbed hers. It gently pulled her through the crowd, leading her through the mass of human bodies. She was more than happy to trust it, too scared to do much else.

Breaking free of the mob, she gasped for breath, clutching onto the hand for dear life as she was pulled into a side alley. Haven leaned against the wall, taking in the appearance of her rescuer. He was probably around her age, but he towered over her in height. She wasn't exactly short, either.

"Thanks." she said, slightly less out of breath. He shrugged.

"Your welcome. My name's Dean, Dean Thomas." he replied. She stared at him.

Barely registering she was speaking, she commented, "You have the same name as my brother."

The boy, Dean, leaned around her to look at the huge swarm of moving bodies, "That's some crowd out there. I wonder what all the fuss is about."

"Me." she answered.

"So what is your name?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

"Haven Winchester... Alexandrite Potter. Hell, I don't know anymore." the raven haired girl replied, rubbing her forehead.

"Oh." was all he said. Slowly, her heart rate decreased as she watched the crowd slowly disperse. She didn't have the energy to move.

Finally, she forced herself to move, shifting herself off of the wall and straightening her clothes as she asked, "So why did you help me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but it wasn't a smart move to get into that mess."

The boy, Dean, and wow was it odd to think of someone else with that name, shrugged and replied, "You were panicking. My mum gets like that, sometimes. I could help, so I did."

What could you say to that?

"Well… thank you again. I'm fine now." she said, "Nice to meet you, anyway."

He grinned, "Nice to meet you, too. So are you also starting Hogwarts this year?"

Haven nodded, "I am. Though I'm thinking about taking that decision back, if this is how people are going to act here."

"I don't blame you," Dean said, "I didn't know magic existed until I got my letter. Was it the same for you?"

"Well, I knew about magic… but not about this whole society, or the fact that I had freaky magic powers." she replied, pulling off the glasses she had donned, "I suppose these are useless, I was recognized easily enough."

A new voice interrupted here, "You expected glasses to hide the fact that you are the girl-who-lived? How stupid _are_ you?"

She whirled around, automatically tensing as the new boy continued, "Oh, stop panicking. I'm not going to announce your location to the world, you can calm down."

The newcomer was a sandy blonde, also around her age. He had a confident, I-am-above-you-peasants air about him, and fair skin. His eyes were a dark, swirling amber.

"And who are you?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He smirked, "Is that any way to talk to someone you just met? I am Zacharias Smith."

"Dean Thomas," said the Dean that wasn't her Dean, "I suppose you already know who she is, then. Am I the only one who didn't?"

" _Yes."_ drawled Zacharius as if he was speaking to someone incredibly idiotic. "But, back to the point, you are trying to find a way to remain unnoticed, correct? I may be able to provide some assistance."

Haven raised an eyebrow, "What's it going to cost me?"

The amber eyed boy let out a quick laugh, "Cost you? What have I done to make you so suspicious?"

"Forgive me for not taking you for the overly giving type." she replied, dry edge to her tone. "Yes, I am attempting not to be mobbed by insane people every few minutes."

"You are going about disguising yourself in the wrong way. Any pureblood could recognize the infamous Potter hair from a mile away." Zacharias said, motioning to her hair.

She traded a look with Dean, who shrugged as she mouthed, ' _Potter hair?!'_

"The scar is another issue. All we need for that is to get you a hat." the boy was staring at her appearance, deep in thought, "The eyes… as long as we change up the hair and the clothes we should be okay…"

"What is wrong with what I'm wearing?!" she asked.

"Too muggle." he replied, "You stand out horribly like that. Come on."

So she was dragged around this way and that against her will. She didn't blame Dean when he decided to leave, this Zacharias fellow was… overwhelming. In the end, she definitely did look different. Her hair wasn't a mess for once, at least.

"Do I _have_ to do this?" she whined for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Shut up and sit still." was the only reply she got, the same one she had gotten each and every time.

"I don't remember signing up for this." she muttered under her breath.

He stopped what he was doing long enough to glare at her, "I told you to shut up. If you cannot follow simple instructions, I will _make_ you stop talking."

She huffed, contenting herself with imagining the boy in front of her experiencing several creative deaths.

Much later on, after he had left with one last biting comment _(I trust you can replicate my work at a somewhat decent level),_ she sat alone in her room, staring at the wall absently. She had a lot to think about.

For one thing… she was terrified. Being famous was something unexpected, and she hated it with a fiery passion. The sheer amount of people who knew her name, who were obsessed with her was overwhelming. She knew how to handle many things, but not this. She wasn't sure she could handle it, but could she go back? Sam wanted her to stay, she had to try, but was she really brave enough?

Dean would be.

Suddenly, she just felt so lonely. By his side, she was brave, but without him, she wasn't. She hadn't realized until now just how much she _needed_ him, how much she relied on him for everything. Without him, she was missing the large portion of what made her who she was. In effect, she'd left herself back in America.

How could she face her newfound fame without herself? Without Dean? She couldn't…

Suddenly, it hit her. She couldn't do it without Dean, so she'd _be_ Dean. It was crazy, it was stupid… but it was necessary.

It wouldn't be hard. Haven knew Dean better than she knew herself. Being him would be as easy as being herself. Easier, even. It's not like she had to be him all the time, just when she needed to be him, when she was scared. She'd be her own Dean, and she'd be her. A mix. This way, she could be braver, she could deal with all of these crazy new things in her life. It wouldn't even have to be permanent, just until she could be brave enough on her own. Just until she got her own bearings.

She jumped up, determination coursing its way through her. All she had to do was channel Dean when she felt scared… pretend to be him in those moments she felt she couldn't face things herself. Haven was certain it would work.

Haven could do this.

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 **Is anyone else in love with what I did with Zacharias Smith? I needed a character there, and suddenly I just thought: "Well, everyone makes him a bad guy, or just an annoying person no one likes... so why don't I make him a bleeding heart cleverly disguised as a totally jerk! He can't have been a Hufflepuff for nothing!" And this Zacharias was born.**

 **I feel so bad for Haven. Fame is just so overwhelming, I hope I'm never famous. I want my books to be famous, but me? Never. I'll just hide in the mountains and continue writing stories. People are scary.**


	12. Chapter 12: The Castle

**Hello again! Only after I posted last chapter did I realize exactly how small it was... Sorry about that. But that really was all I could do with Diagon, and I wanted to have the Hogwarts Express all in the same chapter. So one new face today, along with the ones Haven already knows.**

 **I am really ecstatic with how much support this story has gotten. Seriously, you humans are helping me improve my writing, and confirming that this is something I want to do with myself, and something I can do successfully (even if I definitely still have room for improvement). Friends really suck at giving me useful feedback, so bonus points for all of the really awesome feedback. I love sharing this little idea of mine with you all. Haven's kinda become my baby, I almost constantly have her on the back of my mind, thinking through the timeline of the entire story. If everything goes according to plan, this story is going to be epic. I just hope my writing does the image in my head justice.**

 **I own nothing. If you want to use some of my ideas, don't copy it too much, and tell me about it so I can see all of the cool stuff you do with it!**

 **Enough of my rambling: you guys wanted to see a chapter!**

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 **Chapter 12: The Castle**

Her time in Diagon Alley was spent reading and perfecting the disguise Zacharias had come up with. She had to hand it to the little jerk, he knew what he was doing. Without people chasing after her so much, her time in the Wizarding World was definitely looking up, though when she went to school there was no way she'd be able to keep up the disguise.

The only issue she had was that she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her everywhere she went. Being a paranoid Winchester, the feeling definitely put her on edge. She never once saw who (or what) was following her, but this did nothing to ease the tension. She trusted the feeling. The fact that she hadn't seen whoever it was meant that they could hide themselves quite well- not a good thing for her.

Finally, the morning of September first dawned crisp and cool. Feeling quite stupid, she took all of her things and walked out of the door of the Leaky Cauldron, following Hagrid's instructions for summoning the Knight Bus. She held out her arm, wand in hand.

She nearly fell backwards as out of absolutely nowhere a bus appeared in front of her. So that hadn't been a joke. Haven paid for the trip, and took a seat in one of the ones provided, away from what looked like a few other students and their families, as well as an assortment of other witches and wizards. She ducked her head down, gaze intent upon the pages of a book. She hadn't worn her disguise, as there was basically no point once she got to Hogwarts.

Haven got off at the King's Cross Station with a few other kids, none of which she recognized. She followed them over to the space between platforms 9 and 10, looking down at her ticket. She frowned- there was no 9 ¾ anywhere here. But her ticket said exactly that… so where was it?

The other students from the Knight Bus seemed to have a destination in mind, so she continued following them. That is, until she managed to lose them in the crowd- a surprising feat, considering they carried owl cages. She couldn't find them again, no matter how hard she looked. It was like they had vanished or something when she hadn't been looking.

Haven sighed. Now she would just have to ask someone. She quickly found the passing guard, striding towards him with purpose.

"Excuse me, sir," she said in an apologetic tone, "I have a question, it's going to sound really stupid. I think my cousin is playing a joke on me, but just in case, would you happen to know how to find platform 9 ¾?"

The crossing guard smiled, "Your cousin was playing a joke on you, there is no platform 9 ¾."

She laughed a little ruefully, "Thank you, sir, sorry."

Well, there went that plan. A sliver of anxiety crawled down her spine, but she shrugged it off, reasoning that she would just have to find other wizard children making their way to the platform. They tended to stand out, and if she stood where she had lost her previous guides, she should catch sight of some long before the train left at 11:00.

She didn't have to wait long until she caught sight of a familiar face.

"Hey, Dean!" she called, pushing past the crowd to reach her acquaintance. He turned to her, a huge grin encompassing his features.

"It's you!" he replied excitedly, "How have you been?"

Haven shrugged, "I've been fine. Anyway, do you happen to know how to find the platform? I wasn't given instructions for it, so I've just been waiting to find someone to shadow."

"Oh, yeah. You see that wall over there?" Dean Thomas gestured to the wall between platforms 9 and 10, "It's a portal. You're supposed to run through it, and you'll end up on the platform."

The raven haired girl frowned at the brick, "It looks very solid. Are you sure we won't run into it or something?"

"Not unless I was lied to, but I think we should be fine." Dean said, walking towards the portal, "I'll go first, if you're scared."

"Have fun running into that wall. If I laugh, you can't get mad." she informed him, following him to the wall. Only hesitating for a moment, he ran straight through it, disappearing.

"Huh. So it _is_ a portal." she remarked to herself, "Well, I probably should follow him."

So she did, running at the brick wall and closing her eyes. When they opened again, she found herself in the middle of a crowd. A scarlett steam engine waited, the sign naming it the Hogwarts Express. People spoke loudly, owls hooted, and cats slunk between everyone's legs.

"Let's go find somewhere to sit." Dean said, motioning further down the train. She followed her friend through the mass of students and their families. Eventually, they found a compartment near the end of the train.

"Do you need help with tha..." Dean asked, motioning to her trunk. She shook her head, hefting up with strength surprising for her size. "... Or not."

She smiled at him innocently, "Do you need help with yours?"

"No," he laughed, "I think I should be fine."

They sat down, her pulling out a book from her trunk and starting to read. This particular one concerned the rise and fall of both Grindelwald and Voldemort.

"Um, excuse me, but can I sit here?" an uncertain male voice asked. Haven looked up, seeing a round-faced boy holding a toad.

"Sure. Dean?" she answered, turning her emerald gaze to her friend.

Dean shrugged, "Why not? What's your name? I'm Dean, Dean Thomas."

"Neville Longbottom." the newcomer replied quietly. He seemed so skittish, putting his trunk up and sitting down across from her and Dean.

The boy stared at her, "Uh... I'm sorry, but are you… Alexandrite Potter?"

"Yeah, but I've gone by Haven Winchester for years now." she shrugged, continuing her book.

"Oh, sorry." the boy muttered, readjusting his squirming toad, "Trevor, sit still!"

"A toad? You _are_ aware those went out of fashion years ago." a familiar voice drawled, "There you are, Alexandrite. I was wondering where you had gotten off to."

"Zacharias." she scowled, but it was mostly for show, fading into a small smile as she continued, "I'd wondered if you had gotten lost somewhere. Guess you can't have everything you wish for."

Dean and Neville stifled laughter as Zacharias huffed, putting his trunk up and sitting down across from her, next to Neville. Then, Dean reached into his trunk, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil.

"What are you doing?" Haven asked, leaning over to get a better look.

Dean grinned, "I want to draw that pout on Zacharias's face."

"I do not _pout."_ Zacharias protested.

Haven adopted a smirk, "Well, you are doing a great imitation of one, Mr. Dignified."

The amber eyed male crossed his arms, "Why do I waste my time with you idiots?"

Haven shrugged, "I have no clue." before returning her attention to her book, ignoring the others as they began talking again. She finally came back to the world of real human beings when the compartment door slid open, revealing a smiling woman.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" she asked. Neville got a few chocolate frogs, and Haven ended up buying a few things that looked appetising (including her own chocolate frogs). Wizards sure had weird sweets.

When she unwrapped a chocolate frog, a card fell out. On closer inspection, she discovered that it concerned Albus Dumbledore. He was… old. He wore half-moon glasses (what the point of those were, she'd never guess), and had long silver hair and a beard, making him look a little like how she imagined Gandalf. The picture smiled at here serenely. His card highlighted a few of the achievements she had read about. This Dumbledore so far seemed to have earned the respect he had commanded in the Wizarding World. She was actually somewhat eager to meet him, simply to see what all the fuss was about.

The compartment door slid open, revealing the blonde boy from Madam Malkin's flanked by two boys that seemed to be more like bodyguards than students.

"Is it true?" the pale blonde asked, "They are saying all down the train that Alexandrite Potter is in this compartment." his eyes zeroed in on Haven, "Is that you? Wait, _Winchester_?"

"Hey." she replied, "How have you been?"

He glared at her accusingly, "You are Potter, aren't you? You lied to me."

"I didn't lie, actually. I haven't gone by Alexandrite Potter since I was seven. I've been Haven Winchester since then." she argued, tone reasonable.

"What are you doing here, _Malfoy?"_ Zacharius interrupted, eyes glaring at the blonde.

"Speaking with an acquaintance, _Smith._ Is there a problem?" the other boy, Malfoy, replied, a new ice in his tone. Haven, Neville, and Dean (she'd have to find him a nickname, because calling him Dean was weird on so many levels) didn't dare speak for fear of getting hit in the crossfire of the glaring contest they seemed to be having.

"Yes, in fact, there is." Zacharias said, "You are contaminating my air. Can't you tell when you aren't wanted?"

"And _you_ are a waste of my time." Malfoy's face looked uncaring as he turned and swept out of the compartment, followed by the two boys he had brought with him.

"What was that all about?" Haven asked, "He's not that bad, I actually kind of like him. You were being rude."

Zacharias looked like she had just said something absolutely revolting, "Oh, you poor misguided child. Trust me, you can do much better than _that."_

She had a feeling there was more to it. A long feud, perhaps. They at least had known of one another, though it seemed likely that they were long standing enemies. Or rivals.

"Trevor, no!" Neville shouted, the toad escaping his hands. Instantly, Haven dived forward, catching the toad as it jumped towards the door. Thanking her hunting reflexes, she handed the toad back to Neville.

"Thank you." Neville whispered as she shrugged.

"We should probably get our robes on." Zacharias commented, staring out the window at the darkening sky, "We should be at Hogwarts soon."

The four of them quickly pulled their robes on, as a voice echoed, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Haven didn't want to leave her luggage, but she went out into the corridor anyways, disliking being surrounded on all sides. The train slowed, and then came to a stop. People pushed their way through the train, and onto the dark platform awaiting them. Haven shivered as cold wind blew through the air.

"Firs' years!" a familiar voice called, "Firs' years over here! All right there, Alex?"

She gave Hagrid a thumbs up as he continued, "C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Haven and the others followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. Neville clung onto here for dear life- his balance was terrible, and the slippery path seemed to be out to get the poor boy. It was very dark, so they could hardly see where they were going. Haven thought it was a miracle Neville didn't trip and tumble down the path, dragging her with him to their painful deaths.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called back to the group of tiny first years, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud intake of breath as the narrow path opened up to the edge of a inky black lake. On the other side was a mountain, a great castle perched atop it. Towers reached high above into the dark starry sky, tiny windows letting out dots of light.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a group of little boats waiting for them on the shore. Haven, Dean Thomas, Zacharias, and Neville shared one, none saying a word as they stared at the castle in awe.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid from his own boat, "Right then- FORWARD!"

At his command, the boats began to glide across the black expanse of water. The castle towered over them, making them feel tiny. The boats led them through a dark tunnel underneath the castle, until they came to a stop at a harbor underground. All of the first years climbed out of the little boats. Hagrid led them up a passageway, his lamp their only light, before at last they came onto damp grass right outside the castle. They walked up the steps, finally stopping at a huge, oak door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid called, before knocking on the great door. Someone must have been waiting for them, because the door swung open almost immediately. Standing there was a tall witch in emerald green robes. Her face marked her as the stern teacher, the one who would not tolerate rule breaking.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, even though it was completely unnecessary, except to inform them of her name.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." she said, pulling the door wide. The entrance hall was huge. An entire house could fit in it. The stone walls were lit with torches, and the ceiling was so high she couldn't see where it was. A marble staircase led to upper floors. Haven felt as if she had stepped into some kind of medieval castle. Dean had to tug her arm to get her to realize that Professor McGonagall and the other were moving. Voices could be heard, coming from a doorway to the right- the rest of the school was probably in there, Haven guessed. Instead of joining them, they entered a small, empty chamber off the hall. With all of the first years in there, it was quite cramped.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room. The four Houses are called, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting,"

Her eyes lingered on Haven's unruly raven colored locks. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be done about her hair. It resisted any attempts to tame it. She had long ago given up on it, figuring it's messiness gave her charm, or something like that.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said the Professor, "Please wait quietly."

She swept out of the chamber, leaving the students alone.

"So how exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Dean asked, "Are we going to have to do magic?"

"Hardly," Zacharias sniffed, "It's quite simple, actually-"

Then several people screamed.

Haven whirled around, hand drawing the small knife she kept in her boot out. She gasped as about twenty- _twenty-_ ghosts streamed through the wall. They glided through the room, talking to one another.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

Haven had gone pale. Ghosts, at Hogwarts? Why were they here, why wasn't anyone doing something? She didn't have a gun, but she did have iron. The knife fell to the floor from her hands, replaced by the small iron key she had brought- iron was iron. She threw it at the the ghost nearest the other students, watching it give a surprised yelp and vanish.

"Hey!" a ghost wearing a ruff and tights shrieked indignantly, "There is no need for that! Why didn't they warn us that one of the students was one of _them!_ It is very rude to do things like that, we are _not_ one of our hostile cousins."

The monk ghost added with a smile, "I'm sorry you weren't warned. Magical ghosts are not hostile like muggle ones are. We have retained our sanity, you see."

She wasn't totally convinced, but she supposed they could be Remnants or something. She had nothing on her that she could use, having left all of her things in her trunk. That was a decision she was quickly coming to regret.

"Move along now," said Professor McGonagall, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

"Why are you so freaked out by ghosts?" Zacharias hissed to her. "They're hardly harmful. You look like you are expecting them to start killing all of us."

"Aren't they going to? Isn't that what ghost are _supposed_ to do?! That's what they've always done!" she rambled, utterly confused. All of her knowledge was wrong here.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, "I've never seen any ghosts do that."

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall ordered, "and follow me."

* * *

 **So now Haven has a good sized group... of all boys so far. Does anyone want to venture a guess as to why Draco and Zacharias seem to hate each other? Or any guesses as to what is going to happen in the future? Or a favorite of everyone so far? Or just something you liked in particular, or some other observation?**

 **Next chapter is the sorting! I hope I made what House she'll get obvious, without being _too_ obvious... Any last guesses, guys? If it's too hard, just point out the House she definitely _won't_ be in, if you'd prefer. **

**I'll see you all soon, my favorites! Many hugs and kisses.**


	13. Chapter 13: Caught In The Spotlight

**It's sorting time! Yay! Sadly, after this chapter, updates will be slower for the next month, as I am participating in NaNoWriMo. Cool, right? XD I think so. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting.**

 **By the way, the thoughts on Haven's House were very evenly spread between all four houses, with Slytherin and Gryffindor winning out slightly.**

 **I won't waste time rambling, I own nothing, and now you may read!**

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 **Chapter 13: Caught In the Spotlight**

A hat. What were they going to do with it, Haven wondered, glaring at the dirt that had gathered on it. It was a pointed wizard's hat, obviously very old. The hall was completely silent, staring expectantly at the hat, as if expecting it to do something.

Do something it did.

The hat twitched, a rip opening up at the brim like a mouth. Then, the hat began singing:

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat then me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry,  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin,  
Where you'll meet your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means,  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For a Thinking Cap."_

The hall burst into applause as the song was concluded. Haven was too busy trying to figure out how exactly a hat could sing to react. The hat bowed to each of the four tables, before going still, as a normal hat stayed.

"Isn't it dangerous to let some sentient object poke around in your head?" Haven wondered out loud. "Who knows what it'll do with that information?"

Dean Thomas shrugged, "I'm sure it isn't malicious or anything. I don't know about you, but I like this better then having to do some magic and humiliating myself in front of the whole school."

"You don't need to do magic to humiliate yourself in front of the school." Neville replied quietly, "I bet I'll end up being laughed at."

"You'll be fine," Haven whispered. "If anyone is going to humiliate themselves, it'll be Mr. Dignified over here."

"I would never humiliate myself," Zacharias sniffed, though he looked a little unsure. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long sheet of parchment.

 _What do wizards have against paper?_ Haven wondered for the umpteenth time.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Professor McGonagall announced. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled her way over to the stool. She sat on the stool, pulling the dirty thing onto her head. It fell over her eyes. A moment of silence passed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table of the far right cheered as Hannah came to join them.

"Bones, Susan!"

The hat only took a few seconds to decide Susan was a Hufflepuff, too. After her, Terry Boot became the first Ravenclaw, followed by Mandy Brocklehurst. The first Gryffindor was a pretty girl named Lavender. The Gryffindor table was the loudest in cheering on their newest member. The first Slytherin was an unpleasant looking girl named Millicent Bulstrode. The Slytherins made clapping dignified.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" became a Hufflepuff quite quickly. The boy after him, Seamus, took a long time to be sorted into Gryffindor. Haven shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn't be stuck up there under all those stares for long.

"Granger, Hermione!"

This girl had wild brown hair that was about as bad as Haven's, except frizzy as opposed to just sticking up everywhere. She eagerly jammed the hat onto her head, almost flying off the stool with how fast she sat down. It took long moments before it was decided that she was a Gryffindor.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"You got this!" she hissed to him encouragingly, giving him a little push towards the stool. Her push caused him to lose his balance. He stood up again, face completely red. The hat took a very long time to decide for Neville, but in the end he became a Gryffindor. He ran to his table, only to realize he was still wearing the hat.

The next person she recognized was Draco Malfoy. He swaggered forward, looking as if he wasn't concerned in the slightest. She wondered how he managed it. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed a loud, "SLYTHERIN!"

He looked very pleased with himself. At least he had gotten what he had wanted. She clapped politely for him, ignoring Zacharias's distressed look (it was almost like she had kicked his favorite puppy across the room or something).

Before long, a ringing, "Potter, Alexandrite!" sounded in the room. Haven almost lost her balance, bumping into the boy next to her with a mumbled apology. Haven was very annoyed now (Why couldn't they get her name right?), beginning to stomp forward, attempting to ignore the whispers.

" _Potter,_ did she say?"

" _The_ Alexandrite Potter?"

As she came to the stool, she turned to the Professor, and loudly growled, "For future reference, I go by Haven, Haven Winchester."

Still resolutely ignoring the stares, she glared at the nasty hat in distaste. Couldn't someone clean it every once in awhile? What if one of the other kids had lice? Did this school do checks for that? They hadn't for her.

 _Just put the hat on!_ She ordered herself. Shuddering, she dropped the hat on her head.

"Hmm." said the hat in a small voice, "Where to put you… A good amount of courage, a sharp wit, and even sharper cunning. Very loyal, yes… Hmm… There is a healthy thirst for knowledge here, but not for useless knowledge, oh no, you desire knowledge you can use… This is quite difficult, you know."

 _Um, did any of the other kids have lice by any chance?_ She asked.

The hat laughed, "No, no, you're safe. Well, I think I may have come to a decision-"

 _Wait, Mr. Hat… before you sort me… you'd put my brother, Dean, into Gryffindor, right?_

It was a reasonable assumption to make, after all. Her brother could be the poster boy for daring, nerve, and bravery.

"Yes, I believe so. I'm not in his head, so I can't be sure." the hat answered.

 _Well, then… I think I want to go there._

"Are you sure? This is about you, not your brother. You would do well in any of the other Houses, especially Slytherin." the hat replied.

Her hands clenched, _I'm sure. Please? I could do well in Gryffindor. I really want to go there. Please, please, please?_

The hat sighed, "That you could. Well… If you are sure, then better be GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted to the entire hall. She yanked the hat off her hat, dropping it back onto the stool. She walked to the Gryffindor table, a smile on her face as she slid in next to Neville. She was getting the loudest cheer thus far. A couple of the Gryffindor's got up to shake her hand, while two red headed twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Haven glared at the ghost at the table, who huffed and floated away. She didn't really trust them, but she was out of her depth here. As long as they stayed away from her and didn't hurt anyone, she would tolerate them. Grudgingly.

Soon, Zacharias was walking up to the hat, posture and facial expression giving away nothing. The hat remained on his head for only a few moments before it announced, "HUFFLEPUFF!" to her shock. There was obviously more to Hufflepuff than she had been told, because she would certainly take Zacharias seriously. She clapped for him, despite him joining a House that wasn't her own.

When Dean Thomas joined her and Neville at the Gryffindor table, she cheered loudly, patting him on the back as he sat down on her other side with a huge grin. After him, a few others were sorted, but then it was all over.

Professor Dumbledore, looking exactly like his chocolate frog card self, standing at the table where all the teachers gathered. He was beaming at them, his arms open wide, as if this was the happiest moment of his life, seeing them all there before him.

Haven shifted uncomfortably, pretty sure this man was going to be took perky to be natural.

"Welcome!" he exclaimed, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

She blinked once. Then twice. What had been the point of that other than to show that he might or might not be insane? Then again, she supposed all people who had done so many ingenious things in life might be a bit off their rocker. As Dumbledore sat back down, everyone clapped and cheered.

"Is it just me, or is he utterly insane?" Haven asked tiredly.

"He's utterly insane." said the pair of redheaded twins as one, sitting not too far from her and her acquaintances.

Haven smiled grimly, "I was just checking."

"Could you pass the gravy?" Dean asked, poking her.

"Gra- Oh." she said, realizing that food had appeared on the previously empty plates and dishes. The smell was heavenly. Not wasting any further time, she piled her plate with the delicious looking food. It was just as tasty as the smell and look promised.

"I'm in heaven," she sighed. Neville hummed in agreement, Dean too busy with his potatoes to care. Once she had eaten all she could force herself, the food faded, soon replaced by desserts.

Dean groaned, "I should have saved room."

"There is _always_ room for dessert." Haven informed him, serving herself a few things that looked particularly good. She had mostly been ignoring the talk among the other first years, but now that she was mostly full, she turned her attention to what was being said.

On Neville's other side, two boys were discussing blood status, asking Neville on his own, who seemed to be doing well enough conversing for all of his awkwardness. Across from her, the bushy haired girl was grilling an older red head (how many of those were there?!) on classes, who answered quite happily.

She looked over at the other tables. Draco Malfoy seemed to be doing well enough in the Slytherin crowd. Those Zacharias talked to looked like they'd rather be doing anything but speaking to him. Haven felt kinda bad, since he had been left alone and he would be the type to have issues in the 'making friends' department. Tomorrow, she'd have to see how he was doing. Right now, moving just seemed like a bad idea. She would have to be rolled to the dorms.

Her attention turned to the table at the front once more. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professor McGonagall was speaking with Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, sporting a terrible turban, was talking to a teacher with hair that looked badly greasy, as if it hadn't been washed in a long time.

 _If he ever got sorted, I hoped they sanitized the poor thing…_

Suddenly, the teacher with the bad black hair looked passed Professor Quirrell, straight at Haven, a looking of dislike on his pale face. Her forehead seared in sudden pain.

"Ow!" she hissed, hand flying to her forehead, before the pain suddenly faded.

"What's wrong?" Dean Thomas asked.

"I'm fine." she said, "Just a little headache."

Turning to the older redhead talking to the bushy haired girl (was he called a prefect or something like that?), she asked politely, "Excuse me, but do you happen to know who that teacher is talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." the redhead replied.

"Thank you." she replied, tearing her eyes away from Professor Snape to eat the last few bites of dessert. Not too much later, the desserts disappeared, as Professor Dumbledore got to his feet once more. The hall fell completely silent.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." he announced, "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well"

He paused here, as Haven smiled. Of course someone would sneak into a forest expressly forbidden. Honestly, she'd probably be one of them.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should between classes in the corridors."

"No fun." pouted Haven, Dean grinning at her.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Professor Dumbledore informed them. She frowned- why would something like that be at a school for children? Saying something like that didn't help matters either, since it was more likely to make students very curious as to what was there… including her.

"Is he serious?" Neville asked nervously.

"Must be." the Prefect replied, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced cheerily. He gave his wand a flick, allowing a long golden ribbon to fly out. The ribbon rose above the tables and twisted itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Haven groaned at the discordant noise that arose from the students. Everyone was bellowing the words in a completely tone-deaf way. The song was very silly, at any rate. Everyone ended up finishing the song at different times, the redheaded twins finishing last at a slow funeral march pace.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes, "A magic beyond all we do here! And not, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Haven, Dean, and Neville followed the crowd of Gryffindors out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. She walked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She doubted that she would remember the way to the Great Hall tomorrow. Several doors were hidden behind sliding panels and tapestries. They came to a sudden halt. A bundle of walking sticks floated in midair ahead, beginning to throw themselves at the Prefect.

"Peeves. A poltergeist." he whispered to them.

"You have a _poltergeist_ here?!" Haven hissed, wide awake, "Are you people insane! First ghosts, now this? How is anyone alive here?"

"Oooooh!" said the poltergeist, appearing before them. He was a little man, floating with his legs crossed in the air, "I'd heard that one of the Firsties was one. What fun!"

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" the prefect barked. The poltergeist stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks above Neville. Luckily, Haven shoved him out of the way before he got brain damage or something.

"You want to watch out for Peeves." the prefect informed them, "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

'Here' was at the end of a corridor, where a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink dress hung on the wall.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis." replied the prefect. The portrait swung forwards to reveal a hole in the wall, leading to a large room. The group scrambled through, finding themselves in the Gryffindor common room. It was a cozy, round room full of armchairs and lit by a warm fire.

Haven separated from Neville and Dean, the female dorms being up a separate spiral staircase. At the top, Haven found the room she would be sharing with four other girls. The beds were very comfortable, Haven found, immediately falling onto it. She had to crawl to the end of it to drag a pair of pajamas from her trunk. Once that was out of the way, she crawled under the soft blankets and fell asleep immediately, without even introducing herself to her new roomies. That would just have to wait for the morning.

* * *

 **Looks like Haven's a lion! Yay! Though, from the sound of things, she might end up being a snake in lion's clothing, not that she isn't very Gryffindor, anyway.**

 **Next chapter, classes! Yay! Snapey will never know what hit him...**


	14. Chapter 14: Savior

**Woah, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Doing the life-thing sucks, sometimes. Thank you all for continuing to read this story of mine, every follow, favorite, view, and review is much appreciated.**

 **Okay, so about her sorting. I purposefully made her pretty well rounded, where she could feasibly fit into any house, given the right argument. The reason I chose Gryffindor is because 1: I thought she could fit in there, and 2: I wanted to give her some similar starting tools to original Harry, and do different things with them. Well, except for the Hunting aspect of things...**

 **My friends, I need help for a problem I'm having. Having two Dean's is very confusing, so I would love help for nickname ideas for Dean Thomas. Pretty please? I'm making his middle name Elijah (don't ask why, I don't know, it's just Elijah). Think over nicknames this chapter, and review me your ideas or send me a PM if you'd rather. I'm pretty hopeless in this case, though normally I'm not. I toyed around with the idea of D-Li, but I'm not sure how I feel about that, so... help? I offer internet hugs as a reward for your services!**

 **While I'm on that topic, if anyone is willing to create a cover image for this story, I'd love to use something. Because I'm not the best at drawing. Just PM me. More internet hugs are offered for your awesomeness. However, this is not my most pressing concern (I really badly need that nickname guys...)**

 **With that out of the way, (if you haven't died from overload of boring necessary not-story ramblings) I own nothing and wish you enjoyable reading.**

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 **Chapter 14: Savior**

The next morning, she woke up some time before dawn, used to sleeping only about half the night. As she showered, she wondered if she'd have that habit forever, not that she minded it.

Once she was ready for the day, light from the sun had just begun to stream in through the windows, bathing the room in gold. One of the other girls was already awake, sitting by a window writing in a journal with a deep purple quill. Her hair was auburn, tumbling down her shoulders in pretty curls.

"Goodmorning," Haven said, "My name is Haven Winchester, who are you?"

The girl looked up, her pale green eyes meeting Haven's darker ones. "Amaryllis Runcorn."

Then her eyes returned to her journal, the quill scratching the paper being the only sound. Clearly, Haven wouldn't be getting much out of her for now.

Before too long, the three others had woken up, each proving to be more talkative than Amaryllis. Hermione Granger's bed head was as scary as Haven's. The girl was obviously intelligent, and like Haven, having been raised around muggles.

The other two were already inseparable, their names being Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. If Haven remembered correctly, Parvati had a sister who became a Ravenclaw. Both of them seemed to be the popular, social butterfly type. Haven might have been okay with them, but they kept staring at her and calling her Alexandrite like they were deaf to Haven's corrections.

Once introductions were out of the way, Haven decided to go to the common room to find Dean Thomas (nickname pending) and Neville.

Dean was there, talking with another boy. As soon as he saw her, he waved.

"Goodmorning." she said, sitting next to him and the other boy (S-something, was it?) on the scarlett chairs.

"Goodmorning. How did you sleep?" Dean asked, "By the way, this is Seamus."

Seamus nodded, "You're Alexandrite Potter, aren't you?"

She tried not to glare at him, "Yes, but I've been going by Haven Winchester since I was seven."

"Why?" the boy replied.

"Well, the family in America that took me in were all Winchesters. It made sense to me that I share the name of my new family, especially since they were the only ones I could remember having. That, and I hate the name Alexandrite, so…" she ended with a shrug. "I don't see why everyone's making such a big deal of me going by something different."

As Seamus squawked unintelligibly, Dean Thomas replied, "Apparently, every child raised by magical parents knew your name before they knew the names of their own parents. At least, that is what everyone makes it sound like."

Haven huffed, crossing her arms, "I didn't even do anything besides prove that all Winchesters are too stubborn to die. I get Voldemort-"

Several people nearby shrieked loudly in fear. The others looked at her in amazement, as if she had just sprouted wings and taken flight.

"You said _his_ name?!" a voice exclaimed.

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "It's not that hard. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort… You know, who would name a kid 'Voldemort'? No wonder he became an evil overlord."

It was pandemonium as everyone began freaking out. Huh. The violent reaction just hearing the name might prove useful one day. However, the shrieking was murder to her eardrums, so for now she'd probably refrain from repeating this scenario unless necessary.

"I don't get why everyone freaks out so much." Dean replied, watching the students around them recover from their heart attacks.

"It's just that no one says his name." Neville replied quietly, sitting down next to Haven, "We grew up fearing saying the name, so now the fact that you do is shocking."

She rolled her eyes, mouth turned upward at the corners, "It's in my nature to be shocking, so they should get used to it."

Dean giggled and Neville smiled. They continued talking until the Common Room began emptying, everyone headed to breakfast.

"Come on, you two." Haven said, "People are going to breakfast. We should probably ask one of the upper years to give us directions, otherwise we'll get lost."

Neville's face fell, nervousness overtaking his calmer demeanor, "Do we _have_ to?"

Haven didn't answer, marching to the nearest group of upper years- the two redheaded twins.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, their eyes zeroing on her as one, only briefly flickering to the scar on her forehead (she respected them for only glancing). "My friends and I don't remember where the Great Hall is, and I don't really feel like getting lost today. Could you two give me directions, please?"

The two traded a look. Haven got the unpleasant feeling that she had just made a colossal mistake. Which was an understatement

"Of course, fair maiden!" said one with a mischievous grin, linking his arm with her left arm.

"We would be glad to ensure you don't get lost!" the other twin linked his arm with her right one as the two began dragging her out of the Common Room.

"We'll even lead you there-"

"-like the proper gentlemen we are."

"That's really nice of you, but I think I can make it with just directions." Haven replied mildly, allowing herself to be dragged along, sensing that resistance was futile.

"Nonsense!"

"Proper gentlemen would never-"

"-leave a lady to fend for herself like that."

Haven rolled her eyes, noticing Dean and Neville following behind her and the two redheads with bewildered looks on their faces. "I can see that the two of you are the _epitome_ of gentlemanliness."

"We are honored to accept-"

"-such a compliment-"

"-from one as lovely and polite as you." the twin on her right concluded with a flourish.

She laughed, before asking, "So what are your names?"

Haven almost fell over as her guides stopped abruptly, looking at one another over the top of her head in shock.

"George, can you believe?!-"

"She hasn't heard of us?!"

"This is a travesty!"

"We must rectify this immediately!"

"Without a doubt!"

Turning to her, they said as one, "We are Fred and George Weasley, master pranksters, at your service!"

"And you," continued one, the one with a slightly lighter shade of blue eyes.

"-Are Alexandrite Potter."

She made a face, amused mood souring, "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot."

The twins, Fred and George Weasley, exchanged a quick look. The rest of the walk was spent in silence, her unwanted companions communicating silently over her head. She broke away from their grip, entering the Great Hall (which had come into sight at that point).

Once inside, she headed straight to the Hufflepuff table, to where Zacharias was sitting, unceremoniously plopping herself down in the empty space next to him.

"Good morning," she told him, aware that he (as well as everyone else at the table) were staring at her as if she had grown those wings (yet again) and a halo. She began piling food onto her plate. When the stares still didn't go away, she looked up, demanding, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

The Hufflepuffs looked away, returning to their meals, shooting glances to her occasionally. She was aware that they were whispering her (wrong) name, but chose to ignore it to prevent herself from getting more angry. How many times did she have to repeat that her name was Haven Winchester? Until her tongue fell right off from abuse?

"What are you doing, Alexandrite?" Zacharias asked, putting his fork down. She noticed that he didn't have much food at all on his plate.

"That's Haven, or Alex, I suppose, if you absolutely must, and I'm sitting with a friend." she informed him. She would have added that she had noticed him looking lonely, but she knew enough about him to know that he wouldn't appreciate her pointing it out.

"I trust Gryffindor house is treating you well? You should fit right in with those reckless idiots," Zacharias commented after spending a few long moments accessing her.

"It's fine. Very red." Haven replied, "So are you fitting in with the cuddly, bright yellow Hufflepuffs?"

He glared at her, "Well enough."

That was when hundreds of owls streamed into the breakfast room. Haven searched them for any sign of her own owl, which still hadn't returned yet. When she was about to give up hope, she finally spotted an exhausted owl making her way down towards her. She was eager- her family had finally gotten the letter, she wanted to see the reply so badly-

Then she noticed that the snowy owl carried no letter with her. Her excitement died. The letter she hadn't sent wasn't with the owl, so they had probably gotten it… they just hadn't wanted to reply. She didn't even know if her brothers had read any of it. Had her father not allowed it, or had Dean said no, or was there a chance that the owl had lost the letter?

"What's wrong?" Zacharias asked, his tone barring only the slightest trace of concern.

"Oh, uh, nothing." she replied. Maybe she should just send another letter, just in case they hadn't gotten it.

A feeling of dread latched on when she realized that while any of those instances could be true… they could have also not replied because they were dead.

"Don't lie if you aren't even going to do it well. It only makes people more interested." she heard Zacharias say.

"I was just… expecting a letter from my brothers, you see…" she replied quietly, staring out at nothing. She'd just have to send another letter to them, and pray they weren't dead like she feared. It probably had a perfectly understandable explanation.

"Your brothers? I hadn't heard that the Potter's had more than one child." Zacharias replied.

Quietly, she said, "They aren't blood related. I was… adopted."

"I see." Zacharias said, "Well, if they can stand your company enough to adopt you, I'm sure they'll send you a letter."

"Yeah, probably." Haven said, forcing herself to perk up, "You're right. So, what does your schedule look like today?"

The first week, Haven found that Hogwarts had it's ups and downs. Classes were pretty interesting for the most part, though she utterly hated the stares and whispers. Even the teachers weren't innocent of staring (or falling to the ground when calling her name).

And still, no one in this freaking magic school could get her name right!

The ghosts learned pretty quickly to give her a wide berth… all except for Peeves. He seemed to take special glee in terrorizing her, though he wasn't dangerous. He was only a bit of a mischievous prankster. Or a lot of one. However, she somehow managed to allow him to live, out of the vast goodness in her heart. Which was also the reason no one else ended up maimed.

She wrote a new letter to her brothers, telling them about her friends and her classes and the ghosts. She forced herself to remain hopeful about getting a reply this time.

Friday marked the last day of the first week- and her first class with the Slytherins, and by extension, Draco. She knew it was a bad sign when Professor Snape began the class by taking roll call. Her gut feeling was only confirmed when her own name was reached.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Alexandrite Potter. Our new- _celebrity."_

She met his ink-like eyes squarely. She didn't know what his issue was, but he had one, she was sure. He continued calling the names, before he looked up the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," began the Professor, speaking softly, yet not one person ignored him, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually teach."

Despite his obvious hatred of children, she couldn't help but get excited. This was one of the few subjects in this whole school that made sense to her right now, that she could understand coming from her life as a Hunter. Magic and mumbo jumbo was all new, but using different substances to make something else? Cooking in a nutshell, just with different outcomes.

The dunderheads bit felt like a challenge, anyway. One she was more than willing to accept.

"Potter!" the Professor suddenly shouted. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

She smirked confidently- she had read that. "The Draught of Living Death, though you'll have to do more than mix them together."

He frowned, obviously having not been expecting that, "How about this, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Well, first I assume you should have some in your stores, because a student dying from ingesting a harmful potion is too much paperwork. If, for some strange reason you didn't have one, I could look in an apothecary. After that, I could resort to finding a goat, but by then the poisoned person would be long dead." she answered, pleased. She knew there would be a good reason to read all of her books.

The Professor was growing progressively irritated. Why was he trying to humiliate her? "What is the difference, Potter-"

"Uh, begging your pardon, sir, but that's Winchester. Haven Winchester." she interrupted. There was a general intake of breath, as if no one could believe she would interrupt him.

"But Potter is the last name you were born with, is it not?" his eyes glittered as if he sensed an opening.

"Yeah, but-"

"Then that is the name I shall use for you." he interrupted. She was so angry she was stricken speechless. "Now, if that is all, Potter, I want you all to begin making a cure for boils. The instructions are on the board, and any ingredients you may need are in the chest over there."

Haven and Dean began making the potion, Haven not making a sound. She knew that this Professor would be the first one she ever hated in her life. Of all the students, he found the most things wrong with her, even though her and Dean's potion looked as it was supposed to. Dean, as if sensing her mounting anger, chatted at her, trying to get her to talk. She forced herself to answer his questions and reply to his comments as she concentrated on making a quality potion.

A cloud of acid green smoke billowed throughout the room, a loud hissing filling the room. Neville and Seamus's cauldron had melted into a twisted blob, their potion seeping out and onto the ground. Within seconds everyone was on top of their desks, Haven hauling Dean up after her as the potion reached their area. Neville, who had been drenched in the stuff, groaned in pain as angry red boils popped up on his arms.

"Idiot boy!" roared Professor Snape, clearing away the potion with a simple wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville just whimpered in pain.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Professor Snape spat at Seamus, who hurried to comply. Then he turned to Dean and Haven, eyes zeroing in on her.

"You- Potter- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point from Gryffindor."

Finally her anger broke free of her tight hold on it, "Oh, I was under the impression it was your job to do that."

"Another point, Potter!" he barked.

"Why?" she countered, ignoring Dean, who was trying to get her to stop, and Draco, who was trying to signal to her to shut up, "Because I'm right, maybe? I was watching my own cauldron, so how was I supposed to watch Neville's?!"

"Five points!"

"Stop," Dean hissed in her ear, tugging her hand furiously, "Don't push it! Let it go!"

She glared, but forced her mouth shut. She should listen to Dean, she didn't need any trouble. She would have to try being somewhat polite to the professor if she was to learn anything. Which required her to let it go.

 _But,_ added her still-angry self, _if he doesn't fix his attitude towards me by next class, I will_ not _take it lying down. I didn't come here to be stared at and humiliated and put down. I came here for my brothers, and to learn, so I can be a better Hunter._

* * *

 **Thoughts?**

 **Don't forget the nickname things. Dean Elijah Thomas, Haven, and I beg you for your input, while Dean Winchester refuses to stoop to begging, but requests silently nonetheless.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15: They Call Me

**Thank you all so much for your suggestions for nicknames. I'm still agonizing over my choice, but I like the one I picked, though all others are mentioned in the discussion they have. The reason I was so adamant about wanting Dean to have a nickname is not because I think it causes the readers trouble, but because it causes me trouble, and Haven, in her thoughts. If someone says 'Dean', no matter what, her first thought is her older brother. To make it easier on herself, she wants him to have a nickname that is different, but she will ask his opinion on it first, because she wouldn't call him something he doesn't like.**

 **I know I just updated, but this chapter demanded writing and I figured I would go ahead and post because I made you wait a while last time. I had a lot of fun this chapter, since Fred and George are always fun, and they are featured quite a bit. That, and I'm becoming more confident in the personalities I've created for Dean, Neville, Draco, and Zacharias.**

 **Alright, I own nothing, not even Haven, Fred, or George (though I would so love to). Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 15: They Call Me…**

"You know what! I give up!" Haven cried, throwing her hands in the air, "I obviously will never manage to get all of you idiots to call me Haven. Just call me Alex, I can deal with that I suppose."

The two Ravenclaw girls in front of her looked like she was a potion that had exploded into their faces, ruining their neatly made hair. Next to her, Dean was laughing, drawing the attention of everyone in the area, while Neville just patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. Though he couldn't have been that sympathetic of her plight if his grin was anything to go by.

Glaring at her 'friends', she asked, "So, you had something to ask me, right?"

The girls exchanged uneasy looks, one of them muttering, "Uh… nevermind." before they fled from the area.

"I think you scared them," Dean said, still giggling.

"Well it's annoying, because now I really want to know what they wanted," Haven replied, crossing her arms after adjusting the strap of her bag.

"They probably wanted to ask you to study with them, since you've been doing so well in classes." Neville replied quietly.

Haven considered that, "Huh. Really? Well, I suppose I wouldn't have minded them joining us to work on all of our homework, though Draco and Zacharias would probably have scared them off, if I hadn't. I saved them from being traumatized."

"I wish you had saved me from being traumatized," replied Dean drily. "Sitting between them is like sitting in the crossfire between two armies intent upon killing one another."

"Yeah, well, to put up with one is to put up with the other. They seem to think that if we are left alone with the other, we will all be corrupted into the ways of the heathen. They always seem to know when the other is anywhere near us. It's almost touching how protective they are of us." Haven remarked.

Unnoticed by her, Dean and Neville exchanged an amused look. Dean mouthed, ' _of her',_ which caused Neville to nod in agreement, a grin on his face.

The three of them quickly claimed a table in the library, making sure there was enough space available for the additions that would be joining them later. They didn't have to wait long for the first one to appear. As soon as Haven saw Draco, she waved him over. He sat down next to Dean, grabbing out his homework and getting started with a quick hello to them.

Haven, Dean, and Neville grinned to one another, counting off together as they watched the door, "Three… two… and…"

To their intense amusement, that was when Zacharias made his entrance, making his way to sit by Neville without prompting, glaring at Draco all the while. The glare was returned in kind, ice against amber.

Shaking her head at the pair, Haven drew out her Potions homework, thinking she might as well tackle the essay first, when she had the time to put major thought into it so Professor Snape would be forced to acknowledge her intelligence. As she worked, she brought up what had been bothering her all that morning.

"So, this morning I got this note from the Weasley twins, Fred and George." she informed her friends, "I'm kind of terrified by it."

Dean looked up from his Transfiguration essay, "What did it say."

She pulled it out of her bag, giving it to him, "See for yourself."

 ** _To Lady Alex,_**

 ** _As the good gentlemen we are, we thought that we should warn you that tomorrow is going to be most interesting. Expect it to start on the way to breakfast tomorrow. Please, sit back and enjoy, as our gift to you._**

 ** _\- Fred and George Weasley, Master Pranksters_**

"That is… worrying," remarked Dean, handing the note to Draco. He pursed his lips, but said nothing. He handed the note to Neville next, who gulped, giving it to Zacharias.

"Well," said Dean, "At least they warned you first, and gave you a time. Whatever it is that they are going to do."

"How comforting. I know my doom is coming," Haven remarked drily, "And since I have no clue what it is, I can't even properly prepare."

Draco gave a huff of annoyance, "Weasleys. Unsophisticated, one and all."

"And you are sophisticated, I suppose?" Zacharias drawled.

"Be nice, you two. I'm dying tomorrow, so you have to obey that as my last request. So no insults." she didn't even try asking them not to glare, knowing that it was a lost cause. They both stared at her, but Draco didn't open his mouth with a stinging retort, so she figured it was a win.

"I hardly doubt that you are dying tomorrow," Zacharias sniffed, "The Weasley twins are many things, but I doubt they would murder you."

She buried her head in her textbook, groaning in reply, "If I'm not dead, I'll wish I was. Those two scare me, and hardly anyone scares me. And for some reason I think they actually _like_ me."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Neville uncertainly.

"No…" groaned Haven, "It just increases my chance of a premature death. Maybe I'll just go back to America and hunt something. I'll take my chances with a Wendigo over them, any day."

"You're being dramatic." Draco informed her, not pausing in writing his essay. "They won't kill you. They might maim you, yes, but you won't die. You're too thick-headed to die"

"Shut up." she replied, sitting up again, "Anyway, I think we need to come up with some sort of nickname for Dean. Because my older brother is named Dean, and it's really confusing in my head. Okay with that, Dean?"

Said boy shrugged, "Sure."

"So what is your middle name?" Haven asked, "It might be helpful."

"Elijah."

"Why not Eli?" Neville asked, before turning to Haven and sliding his essay to her, "Haven, is this right?"

She leaned over, reading the words he pointed out in his essay, "Yeah, it's right. But Eli just seems… I don't know. Anything else?"

"I'd almost say DE, but…" Zacharias shivered, "That won't work, for obvious reasons."

"What obvious reasons?" Dean asked. Haven was just as confused.

Zacharias, Draco, and Neville all traded 'he can't be serious' looks.

"Hey, stop looking at each other like that. For one, it's creepy, and I also have no clue what is wrong with DE." Haven replied. All three blinked at her in shock.

Finally, Draco sighed, "Because of the Death Eaters. We can hardly call him that."

Dean looked confused, "Death Eaters?"

Once again looks were traded, as Neville timidly answered in a whisper, "They were, uh… they were You-Know-Who's followers."

"You mean old Voldemort?" Haven asked, ignoring the winces, "Oh, I guess that would make sense."

"How about DET, or DT, instead?" Draco replied, "Though why you can't just call him Thomas and be done with it…"

"Because I don't want to." Haven replied. "Nicknames are more fun anyways. DT would be fine, unless we can find something better."

Zacharias rolled his eyes while Draco sighed, both obviously thinking her silly. Haven seriously wondered why they didn't get along, since they always seemed to agree on so much. Maybe that was the problem, they were too similar to like one another.

"Well, we could always call him Leonardo or Michelangelo. For his artwork." The only girl commented.

"Or because you just want to name me after a ninja turtle." she heard Dean mutter, causing her to snort.

"If you are going to go with something that mentions his art, just go with 'Artist'." Draco commented.

" _Or,_ since that is stupid, you could just call him Elijah." added Zacharias, glaring at Draco.

Haven sighed, "What did I say about not insulting one another. I actually don't mind Artist."

"Probably due to your poor tastes." Zacharias replied with a tiny smile. She just rolled her eyes at him.

Neville added, "Or you could shorten Dean T. into 'Dent'."

Everyone laughed at that, as Dean giggled, "Please, let's not."

"We could literally just go with 'nickname pending' or 'nickname' if we can't find anything." Haven said mischievously.

Dean choked on thin air from surprise and a little laughter, "No, no! I will not answer to that, and if you try to call me that, our friendship will be over!"

"Alright, alright, little lion man, don't be dramatic. We hear you well enough, so there is no need to roar." Zacharias said in exasperation, shaking his head.

Haven paused, thinking it over, "You might be onto something there." then, she turned to Dean, "But seriously, you think I would actually call you something you don't like? Me, who has personal experience with being called something I don't like _Zacharias."_

He completely ignored her not so subtle hint. She was pretty sure he called her Alexandrite specifically because it annoyed her.

"How is _he_ onto anything?" Draco asked reproachfully.

"Little Lion Man." Haven answered, not missing Zacharias's smug look or Draco's sour one, "Double L M for short, or Lim. How's that sound, Dean?"

He shrugged, "It's not bad. Better than DE. Or Dent, for that matter. Definitely better than Nickname. But I think one of the others might have been better."

"I still think I like Michelangelo." Haven admitted, "I don't know why. It just… I don't know… suits. For all that Double L M is fun to say, I think that Michelangelo is just a little better."

"Yeah." said Neville, "It's nice."

"I'd be completely fine with that." Dean said with a wide grin, "It makes me sound important, and cool."

The Slytherin and Hufflepuff shook their heads, but didn't disagree.

Haven looked at all of them, asking, "So everyone agree? There, now you have a new, important name, and I don't have to be confused anymore."

The next day, Haven started off to breakfast with trepidation. She had seen the Weasley twins, and they definitely looked to be up to something, but they didn't speak with her at all. She knew she couldn't avoid it, so she decided she might as well get her death over with and left the Common Room with Dean- now Michelangelo- and Neville.

The first odd occurance she noticed was when a group of older Gryffindors walked by, one of the girls yelped, before her hair was suddenly a bright shade of purple.

"Uh… above your head." Neville said, staring up with wide eyes. Michelangelo was doing the same.

"'It's not polite to stare', huh?" Michelangelo remarked, "So maybe the twins aren't so bad after all."

Those words (It's not polite to stare) were floating above her head in fancy gold letters.

All throughout the day, the words stayed above her head as people began experiencing odd things. One boy danced on the table for most of breakfast, another girl ended up developing an identical scar to Haven's. Others found themselves singing every word they attempted to speak, and still others found themselves covered in pink hair, and a memorable one kept coughing up glitter. It was a chaotic, hilarious day, and Haven certainly enjoyed it when she realized that none of it was directed at her- but rather at those who gawked at her scar. The classes were emptied of those who would spend class staring at her, which was a nice change compared to last Monday. Her friends found it equally amusing, though Draco and Zacharias refrained from voicing it. She could tell that they were amused by the twitching of their mouths every time another student made the unfortunate choice to stare at her scar, as the twins had told her at the end of the day that that was what triggered it all, including the message that floated above her head.

Sadly, the teachers did not find the phenomena so fun, and the twins ended up in trouble. The very next day, a loud howler letter proclaimed their mother's displeasure at the antics of her sons.

Haven decided that since they had helped her out, she would help them. Quickly, she decided on the best course of action, and got to work, sending the letter during lunch.

 ** _Dear Mrs. Weasley,_**

 ** _You have never met me, but I would like to take the time to thank you for raising your sons, Fred and George, how you have. I have recently discovered their outstanding character through a kind act they have done for me, despite my being a stranger to them. They spent much of their valuable time and effort to help me with a problem I have been dealing with for some time now, not expecting anything in return, not to mention they noticed this problem of mine at all, despite only seeing me a few times. They have an amazing gift for making people laugh, and bringing people out of their slumps. That, to me, is worth more than all the gold in the world._**

 ** _Not only do they have the sort of kindness that I rarely see, but they are incredibly intelligent and magically talented. They are only children in their third year, and yet they can use complex charms and magics, and know how to make them work together to produce a desired effect. Yet, they use these not just for their personal gain, but to spread joy to other people. Their futures are bright, and you should be very proud of the men they are going to grow to be._**

 ** _I hope you realize what amazing children you have raised and will treasure them as they so rightly deserve._**

 ** _Sincerely,_**

 ** _Haven Winchester, better known as Alexandrite Potter_**

Wednesday morning, Fred and George received another letter, however this one was not a howler, Haven noted with satisfaction. As they read, their expressions became more and more dumbfounded.

"What goddess managed to get our mother to nearly _apologize_ " said one twin.

"' _P.s. you two have a very good friend watching out for you. Take care of her.'_ What is _that_ supposed to mean?!" exclaimed the other. Both of them began searching the table, as if expecting the 'friend' to pop up out of nowhere with several flashy arrows pointing her out.

Instead they got Haven, who was 'conveniently' sitting nearby, winking at them as they looked at her, "Obviously, a concerned party thought to inform your mother of your achievements."

They traded a look, before they began staring at her in absolute shock and awe. Smiling, she stood up and excused herself, shaking her head and the questioning looks of Neville and Michelangelo.

That night, she ran into the library where the others were already waiting for her, exclaiming, "I'm so doomed!"

She collapsed into her chair, placing the note onto the table, which was immediately read by the other occupants.

"What have you _done,_ Potter?" Draco asked tiredly.

"I suppose it could be worse," Haven said, laying her upper body on the table, "They seem to like me, and they are pretty nice, if a little chaotic."

"Are. You. Insane." Neville said. "You read the note, right?"

"Of course I read it." she replied, sitting up, "I suppose this could be fun. I'll learn enough pranks to totally decimate both of my brothers in our next prank war."

"You can assume she's insane, Neville." Michelangelo said, staring at her in fear. "Because I'm pretty positive she just proved it."

 ** _To Alex Potter, Apprentice of Mayhem and Havoc,_**

 ** _We have deemed you worthy. Prepare to start your training, because we're starting tomorrow morning. We wish you a long life of pranking and chaos!_**

 ** _\- Fred and George Weasley, your new Masters of Mayhem and Havoc_**

* * *

 **I love Fred and George. Thank you _a person d_ for the ideas used in this chapter regarding Fred and George, and everyone who suggested a nickname. So now Haven is the twins' apprentice... I'd feel sorry for her if I didn't think she was just going to take over the world with them or something.**

 **So what did you guys think? Any suggestions for future scenes?**

 **Thank you for your continued support of my writing passion!**


	16. Chapter 16: Breaking of the Fellowship

**I went through and edited it, since this is an important chapter and there were a few things I wanted to tweak so their reactions might make a tiny bit more sense.**

 **Please keep in mind: Character's POV's are all biased. What they think isn't always correct. And they are all only eleven years old. They make mistakes like any human and are not mature enough to react appropriately all the time and to control their emotions.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: The Breaking of the Fellowship**

 **Draco's POV**

Draco Malfoy had to refrain from letting out the sigh of exasperation that threatened to escape his mouth. He hated every last one of the group of people his father had ordered him to befriend at Hogwarts: Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and a few others in higher years. He had taken to tuning them out mostly, wishing that he could leave them for Potter and her group of weirdos. Despite their poor life choices (the main one including wasting time on that _repulsive_ Zacharias), he found their company much more enjoyable. Despite their belonging to Gryffindor, he found himself drawn more to them than to any of his Slytherin counterparts. Sometimes, he even felt that Potter _might_ have some intelligence in that head of hers, though for now they were mostly flashes of potential that promised an interesting future.

He glanced at the idiots around him (how did they all end up in Slytherin? Were their minds so blank that the Sorting Hat just put them in the same house as their parents to get out of their heads as soon as possible?), thinking that they were almost the exact opposite of his friends. Idiotic, with few redeeming qualities. They spent their time insulting people with little creativity. If they were going to insult someone behind their backs, couldn't they at least be creative? They were going to alienate potential allies- like those idealistic but useful people like Potter, who would be steadfast in their beliefs and refuse to ally with people that had a lack of morals. It was all just so infuriating! He'd _almost_ rather be in the company of Smith- at least trading verbal blows with him required more thought and skill!

Well, he was stuck with them. All came from families that were allied to his family, like it or not. He had a duty to perform as a Malfoy, unfortunately.

His attention was pulled to the present by malicious laughter. Running on autopilot, he hadn't noticed what had been going on around him (a huge, unforgivable mistake), and hadn't realized that they had stopped walking… or why.

Neville Longbottom sat on the ground, staring up at those who surrounded him with wide eyes, his bags spilled onto the ground at his side.

"Ha! Look at him! He's so pathetic, just a sad excuse for a pureblood. Might as well be muggle, with how well he does in classes without Potter hissing answers into his ear." Laughed Nott.

 _He's rather talented in Herbology._ Draco argued silently, _He isn't bad at anything else, he just lacks confidence in his abilities- it's obvious if you pay attention. But of course you wouldn't Nott, you never look beyond what your dad tells you._

"Haven't you been spending time with him and Potter, Draco?" asked one of the upper years, Flint, "Why do you waste your time? Potter is obviously a lost cause, associating with riffraff like him and that mudblood Thomas."

Draco didn't look up at the group now staring at him, instead meeting Neville's eyes. Inwardly, he was struggling. He wanted to help Neville, to stand up for Potter and even Thomas (a small amount). He tried to open his mouth to say something, but the words died. If he alienated this group, his father would be _furious_. Relations with their families would be tense, when news of the apparent 'weakness' and 'sympathy' the heir of the Malfoys held got to their parents. He would bring shame to his father and mother. He didn't even want to consider the punishments that would be bestowed upon him. And then, there was the fact that it was just him and Neville, surrounded by several much stronger boys. Two of them were older, three of them built like giants. Saying something would only make the situation much worse.

So Draco remained silent, hating himself for it.

"Surely you don't sympathize with him, Malfoy?" asked Nott. Slowly, he shook his head, still staring at Neville.

"Why don't you prove it, then?" asked Crabbe, "You've been spending an awful lot of time with them."

"Yeah." added Goyle, "It's like you… like them or something."

"But that's ridiculous, right, Malfoy?" challenged Flint. "Here, I have the perfect spell for you to try. It shouldn't be hard for a wizard of your talents. Don't worry, the pathetic blood traitor won't fight back. He's weak."

 _No. He's quiet, but he watches. Notices things. He's not weak. He's not stupid. He's not worthless. He's better than all of you._

Draco remained frozen with indecision. Neville smiled, a sympathetic look in his eyes, as he nodded once to Draco. The message was clear: 'Go ahead. I don't mind. I understand.'

Hating himself, he pulled out his wand, following Flint's instructions. How was he supposed to argue? What else could be done?

 _I'm sorry, Neville._

 _I forgive you,_ replied Neville. It wasn't out loud, but the message was clear enough.

 _Why? Do I… do I really deserve your forgiveness when I won't even stand up for you?_

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

Haven awoke to a thump, jumping up from the chair she occupied in the now empty common room. Almost immediately, she saw Neville, who had fallen over to the ground just inside the portrait hole.

"Neville! I've been waiting up for you, I wanted to-" she trailed off when she saw his expression, the colorful bruises decorating his skin, his ripped bag and torn belongings haphazardly shoved inside, and the fact that his legs appeared locked in place. The Leg-Locker Curse.

"Oh, Neville, what happened?" she asked, remembering the countercurse and quickly using the knowledge. Free of the spell, he managed to sit up and walk (a careful pace, almost like it hurt) over to one of the couches, sitting down and refusing to meet her eyes, looking miserable. She sat down next to him, concern and anger flashing through her, banishing any remaining sleepiness.

"Who did this." she growled, anger steadily mounting. How dare someone even _touch_ Neville?

"A group of Slytherins cornered me," he whispered, head ducked in shame. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? They're the ones who should be sorry! Who were they? If you don't know their names, what did they look like? If I ask Draco, he might-" she stopped as she took in Neville's reaction to his name… that he had a reaction at all.

Suspiciously, Haven asked, "Neville… Draco wasn't involved in this, was he?"

Neville remained silent, but his expression told her all she needed to know.

"Draco?! I'll kill him!" she exclaimed, jumping up, "Who the hell does he think he is? I thought… I thought…"

She trailed off, unsure of what exactly it was she thought. _Draco? Draco hurt Neville? Neville, who is so kind? Draco, who is my friend?_

How could she have misjudged so badly? She let Neville get hurt, because she _trusted_ him, and led Neville to trust him, too. How humiliated he must have been, thinking Draco was a friend and discovering otherwise. The very thought of it angered her to a level that was frankly terrifying.

"They were telling him to do it, he didn't want to, I know he didn't! He had no choice, there were too many." Neville argued, "You can't get mad at him, none of it was his fault!"

"He hurt you, Neville!" she cried, not understanding why Neville would argue on his behalf when he'd hurt him, "I can't just let that go! Friends don't humiliate and hurt friends. No matter what. Even if he sat back and did nothing, that's just as bad. As a friend, he shouldn't have abandoned you, _betrayed_ you like that. How could I just let that go like nothing happened?"

And it hurt, because she really had liked Draco. He was funny, in his own way. He was intelligent, and could explain things to her that made no sense about the Wizarding World. His betrayal hurt, despite the short time in which she had known him. She was _alone_ here, without her family, and he was one of the few who she had felt comfortable with. He was one of the four she could be herself with when she was surrounded by an unfamiliar world without her support system, and nothing made sense. One of her pillars had collapsed, and she only had three left to hold her up in a world that she didn't know and couldn't trust. If she didn't have them she didn't know what she'd do. She hadn't been alone since she'd met the Winchesters.

 _What happens if my other friends aren't what I thought, too? Will I be alone?_

Haven shoved the fear aside. _I am Dean. I am Dean. I am Dean._

This served to soothe the fear, allowing the anger to take over as her mind began picturing how Neville must have felt at the time, having been there many times in her youth. Images of Dudley and his gang terrorizing her crossed her mind, fueling her anger. And Malfoy was no better than her cousin had been.

"He didn't mean it. They would have hurt him too. And they could have made his life horrible, if he-"

"That excuses nothing! Nothing justifies betraying a friend, _nothing_! You can't make excuses for him, Neville, you have to stand up for yourself!" she replied furiously, veins pounding in her head. She couldn't think, she was too angry. "I'm going to bed."

Haven stomped off to her dorms. She'd make Malfoy pay. Nobody would treat her friends that way, not even him. She didn't care who he was anymore, he wasn't who she'd thought and had dared to hurt one of her own.

The next morning, she did not hesitate, anger fueling her motions as she ignored her friends and Neville's attempts to calm her down while she stomped to breakfast, and then to the Slytherin table, where Draco was sitting.

"Who. _The hell_. Do you think you are?!" she demanded in a growl. He turned to her, looking confused for a moment before his face went carefully blank.

"You're… angry." he noted slowly. Cautiously.

The young Hunter smiled in a predatory way, all fangs, "Look at those amazing deductive skills, no _wonder_ you're a Slytherin. Oh, I am so _far_ beyond angry right now."

With that, Haven grabbed his sleeve and dragged him out of the Great Hall, ignoring his yelps and protests. She had no desire to make a scene, despite the raw fury pounding through her blood vessels. This was a matter that didn't need to be witnessed by the entire school, only him.

"Alex, don't yell at him!" begged Neville, nearly hanging off her other side as they exited the Hall in his attempt to stop her, "I'm not angry, _please_ don't be."

"He deserves it!" she bit back as she stopped a reasonable distance away from the Great Hall, before turning to Draco, "You bastard _._ How _dare_ you hurt and humiliate Neville, and walk in there like you've done nothing wrong!"

"What's going on?" asked a confused Michelangelo, who'd followed them out, "Why are you mad at Draco?"

"Last night _Malfoy_ thought it would be fun to take a group of friends and corner Neville." Haven hissed in answer, "You really are just a bully, aren't you? Maybe Zacharias had the right of it all along."

Draco, who had previously just watched her in a mostly detached manner, winced, her words hitting home.

"It wasn't like that-" Neville protested. It was useless, she was seeing red, and his refusing to stand up to Malfoy didn't help, fueling her rage. She was beyond reasoning.

"You coward, you knew Neville wouldn't stand up for himself! You wouldn't mess with me, would you? Even against Neville, you still needed a group of your little friends, huh? If I _ever_ catch you doing something like that again, I will do much worse than a leg-locker curse. You better pray I never see you anywhere _near_ Neville, ever again, because I won't be so kind!" with that, she turned on her heel and began stalking back into the Great Hall.

"What right do you have to yell at me?" Draco demanded, finally speaking.

Haven began laughing without real humor, turning back to face him again, "What _right?!_ You gave me the _right_ as soon as you even t _hought_ about touching Neville. Because I, unlike you, value my friends!"

"So what, do you all think I'm some sort of... bad person, now?" Draco asked, a tinge of hurt in his voice, looking between them all. Like it was him alone against them all.

"Messing with Neville wasn't right." Michelangelo said, stepping closer to Haven in a clear statement of his opinion. "I'm with Alex on this one."

Zacharias said nothing, crossing his arms and looking at Haven with an unreadable expression. Curiously, he did not move closer to either Haven or Draco, standing beside Neville instead, in between the two sides.

"Guys, you don't understand!" Neville cried desperately, looking between both sides with a pleading expression as Zacharias put a subtle hand on his shoulder, "Please stop yelling. Look, can we all just-"

"Look, Neville, he _hurt_ you. If I let that happen, how could I call myself your friend?" Haven replied.

"You aren't his bodyguard, Potter." Draco said, the hurt in his voice masked by a venom that didn't need volume like hers seemed to.

"No, I'm his _friend."_ Haven replied, the _unlike you_ heard by all in attendance.

"And a great, shining example of friendship you are. Walking all over Neville and his opinions in the name of 'protecting' him?" Malfoy said in disgust, "You're just as bad as me, and you know it."

Zacharias finally stepped in, taking her arm to prevent her from punching Malfoy as her hand really wanted, before saying in an uncharacteristically calm tone, "Come on, Alexandrite. He's not worth it."

Slowly, she lowered her hand, "You're right. He's not."

With that, she turned and walked away.

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

Never in his life had Draco been so unenthused at the prospect of flying. He might have been more excited about it, had the Gryffindors not shared the lesson with the Slytherins. Having to fly, knowing that Potter and Thomas would be glaring hatefully at him. And Neville…

He could probably stand the boy's sympathetic looks the least of all. He hated Potter for refusing to understand his actions, but he hated Neville just the same for his ability to forgive. Ridiculous as it was, he was unsure of which he wanted- forgiveness or hatred. He didn't deserve forgiveness from Neville, probably not Potter, either, yet he was so _furious_ that Potter refused to give it.

He hadn't known how hard Potter could bite, how much her words would hurt. He had anticipated her being angry, but had been unprepared for the reality of it. Her anger was a hurricane in terms of destructive power, tearing at his pride and emotions with cruel precision. Each word was chosen and spoken with the intention to cut.

Sure, he deserved most of them (except for the one where she claimed _Smith_ was the one in the right. Seriously, if she could have seen his gloating face the entire fight… could have seen the way he clearly conveyed his victory in the fight for Potter… she might have thought differently. Or maybe not, he didn't know), but the girl could at least apologize for the hurtful, destructive way in which she said them, her eyes showing clear _hatred._

He hated that he had alienated her and the others from him, just as much as he hated that he hadn't alienated Neville. How could he forgive him? How could he stand there and defend him from Potter's rage, knowing what he had done?

Oddly, despite his thoughts, the sky was clear, a gentle breeze stirring his hair and the lush green grass under his feet. He and the other Slytherins arrived before the Gryffindors, allowing his anxiety at seeing his ex-friends and their cold looks to fester.

He refused to look up when the Gryffindors neared, scared of what he might find. He pretended to be fascinated by his hand, his heart pounding. He didn't want Potter to hate him, or even Thomas.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" the teacher, Madam Hooch, barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Draco looked at the old broom in distaste. Were they sure that this thing could fly at all?

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called the professor, "and say 'Up!'"

The word was repeated by everyone. Draco's broom listened to his command the first time- one of the few who did. He noticed that Haven's was just as responsive. His mind was almost completely absent throughout everything, at least until Madam Hooch corrected his grip to his embarrassment. Had he been paying attention, his grip wouldn't have needed to be corrected.

 _A Malfoy must be perfect, always._

How dare those… _Gryffindors_ take his attention away and cause him to need to be corrected? How dare they yell at him?

His hurt was beginning to become anger at a situation that he'd handled in the only way he'd known how.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said the professor, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three- two-"

Neville must have been nervous, ending up pushing off before the whistle went off. It had been quite clear that he was one of those who did not look forward to flying one bit, and actually having his feet off the ground only made it worse.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville was rising quickly, too quickly. He was more than twenty feet off the ground when he slipped off the broom, his face white from fear.

Draco couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped his lips as Neville landed with a nasty crack. It took all of his willpower not to go and see if he was okay, to allow the professor to do her job.

"Broken wrist," she muttered, her face as white as Neville's. "Come on, boy- it's all right, up you get."

Then she addressed the rest of the class, "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville clutched his wrist, visibly trying hard not to cry, allowed Madam Hooch to lead him off. As soon as they were out of earshot, a great many Slytherins began laughing.

"Did you see his face?" Nott chuckled, elbowing him in the side. Draco made a weak attempt at a laugh, it sounded fake in his ears.

"Shut up!" Potter yelled, glaring at the group of laughing Slytherins, daring the laughter to continue on. The Slytherins only laughed harder.

"Ooh, she looks so fierce, sticking up for Longbottom," Pansy Parkinson sneered, "Like fat little crybabies, then, Alexandrite?"

"One more word, and _you'll_ be crying," the girl hissed, darting forward only for Thomas to grab her at the last minute. Unfortunately for him, she was stronger than she looked, dragging him forward before a few other Gryffindors dived forward to hold her back.

Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle were all watching Draco to see what he'd do. He knew this morning hadn't looked good, with Potter dragging him out and his moodiness throughout the day. Who could blame him? He'd just lost his group of friends, and was left with a group that he had to befriend but secretly disliked. However, he knew had to do _something_ to improve his image to them, or face the wrath of his father. Might as well have stuck up for Neville and dealt with it then if it was going to turn out the same.

Something glinting caught his eye, "What's that?"

He went and picked it up, frowning when he realized it was a Remembrall.

"Give that here, Malfoy." ordered Potter. Looking at her expression, it didn't take him long to realize it was Neville's. He met her eyes, anger building up inside him. Those emerald eyes that hated him found that hatred returned. He felt almost like a cornered animal, caught between his expectations as a Malfoy and his now ex-friends (though he wasn't sure what he should count Neville as). He was done trying to be somewhat reasonable. Something in him snapped and he no longer had any control over himself.

"I think I'd rather not." he informed the black haired girl, "If you want it so badly, why don't you come get it?"

With that, he leapt onto one of the broomsticks lying around, taking off before Potter had time to react. He leaned forward, holding out the Remembrall, "And here I thought you wanted it, Potter."

Her eyes burning in fury, she stomped over to a broom, grabbing onto it without taking her eyes from his.

" _No!"_ shouted one of the Gryffindor girls, a girl named Hermione Granger, he thought, "Madam Hooch told us not to move- you'll get us all in trouble."

Obviously, Potter was just as beyond caring as Draco was, mounting the broom and taking off. It took Draco less than a second to realize that Potter was not going to be unsteady on her broom as he thought she would, being a beginner. In fact, it was like she had been born flying on a broom with how quickly she got the feel for it, shooting up towards him and stopping directing in front of him to the cheers of the Gryffindors.

"Give that here," Potter snarled, "Or I'll knock you to the ground."

"Will you really?" he said, attempting to keep his composure. He had begun remembering himself, and bemoaning the moment of _idiocy_ he'd had when he decided to begin flying. His eyes darted around, mind searching for a way out of the situation he'd found himself in when he'd irrationally lost control. There was no way he wanted to challenge Potter on this- she was stronger than him, he was pretty sure, and challenging her fifty feet above the ground suddenly did not look like such a good idea.

Like she was a bird, Potter leaned forward and shot towards him. Draco only just managed to get out of her way.

"Looks like none of your little friends are up here to save you, huh, Malfoy?" Potter called, turning back to face him. However, he was ignoring her, trying to find a way out of the situation. Suddenly, an idea came to him

"Catch it if you can, then!" Draco shouted, throwing the Remembrall high in the air, before diving to the ground.

He realized too late, once he was on the ground, that Potter had dived after it. He almost called out her name in alarm, but stopped the noise just in time as he remembered she was no longer someone he cared about. A mere foot from the ground, she caught it, pulling the broom straight. It took him several moments to realize that she hadn't crashed into the ground as he'd feared, she wasn't hurt at all. He sighed in relief despite himself. He didn't care about her anymore, he reminded himself. If she wanted to hate him, he'd return the favor.

"ALEXANDRITE POTTER!"

Professor McGonagall was running towards them, nearly speechless from shock, " _Never-_ in all my time at Hogwarts-"

Her glasses flashed as she continued, "-how _dare_ you- might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't her fault, Professor-"

 _No,_ Draco realized with a sinking feeling, _it was mine, wasn't it? Though she didn't have to dive like that and scare me half to death._

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's _enough,_ Mr. Thomas. Potter, follow me, now." With that, Potter began following her, leaving Draco to wonder how she'd managed to get him to lose control of himself so fast.

* * *

 **I really love this chapter and what it reveals about the characters. It's a good thing to show how young they are, and how much they are going to grow in the future. I'm obsessed with analyzing my characters, so this is my idea of fun. If any of you notice anything tell me about it so we can talk about it and it'll be lots of fun.**

 **Thank you!**


	17. Chapter 17: Who I Ought To Be

**Hello! I'm back with the next chapter, as you can probably see.**

 **I would like to say that I know all of you want to see Sam and Dean. We will get to that.**

 **I'm glad so many of you enjoyed last chapter. I think it has been my favorite so far. I hope this one is just as enjoyable. We'll get some insight into both Zacharias and Neville and their points of view in this argument.**

 **I own nothing, so have fun reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Who I Ought To Be**

 _This is just a mess, now, isn't it?_ Haven mused, following a silent Professor McGonagall down the halls. She was pretty sure they would be heading to the Headmasters office.

 _I'll be going home._ She thought, smiling a little. She missed them, but she wondered how she would be received, especially by John. She hated to disappoint Sam, but she had learned some, even if she would miss it here, too. Perhaps it was for the best, after all, a Hunter hardly belonged among witches and wizards and ghosts.

Peeking inside a classroom, Professor McGonagall asked, "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

 _Wood? Aren't we going to Professor Dumbledore's office? What is Wood, anyway?_

Wood turned out to be a burly fifth year boy, one which Haven remembered seeing around the Common Room a few times.

"Follow me, you two." said Professor McGonagall, marching up the corridor. Wood was staring at her curiously, though it didn't seem to be as much of the, _Oh dear lord Alexandrite Potter what do I do oh she's looking at me agh!_ And more of the _Who the hell is this and why is she here?_

She approved.

"In here." Professor McGonagall said, leading them into a room that was empty barring Peeves, who was writing words she approved of on the board in chalk.

"Out, Peeves!" barked the Professor, causing the poltergeist to swoop out of the room, cursing. The Professor slammed the door behind him and then turned to them.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood- I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from confusement to absolute delight, like he'd been told that he had won the lottery. "Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely" said Professor McGonagall. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

"Yes," she replied, utterly lost as to what was going on, "But if you don't mind my asking, what is going on? Aren't I in trouble?"

"Wood here is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," she was informed, before the teacher turned to Wood again, "She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive. Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Oliver Wood was in utter euphoria, "Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?"

"No." she replied as Oliver Wood began his inspection, much like she was a horse.

"She'd just the build for a Seeker, too. Light- speedy- we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say." Oliver said.

 _I'm glad you're impressed._ Haven thought sarcastically.

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened_ in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks." then, she turned with a stern expression to Haven, "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

 _So… the message here is that teaching Malfoy a lesson yield results? Maybe I should do it more often._

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall smiled, "Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

That night at dinner, she told Michelangelo what had happened after she'd been dragged off.

"You must be _joking._ I thought for sure you'd be expelled." Michelangelo breathed, "Aren't first years not allowed to, though?"

"They're bending the rules for me," she made a face, "They didn't ask me if I wanted it, but I figure I'd rather this than being expelled. I start training next week, but you can't tell anyone- Wood, the captain, wants to keep me as a 'secret weapon' or something like that."

"Well done, apprentice," said George Weasley, leaning close to her and speaking in a low voice, "Wood told us. We're on the team, too- Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," commented Fred, "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Alex, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we'll have to talk to you later, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school." George said.

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you!" with that, Fred and George left the room. They were replaced by Malfoy and two of his little friends, more like bodyguards by the looks of them.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the muggles," Malfoy asked.

Mildly, Haven replied, "You know, since I'm already in trouble, I guess it wouldn't hurt if I decided I didn't like the shape of your nose."

Next to her, Michelangelo began giggling, while Malfoy just glared, turning on his heel and leaving the table.

 **Zacharias's POV**

Zacharias was wandering through the halls, thinking through recent events as he looked for Neville. Already, the little group they had created seemed to be falling apart around them. He had honestly expected better- already they had seemed to be a tight-knit group, but misunderstandings did happen. He wasn't totally sure what exactly had happened, which was one of the reasons he was seeking out Neville, who seemed to have the clearest picture of things out of everyone. There was no way he was talking to _Malfoy,_ after all, even if he did find himself pitying the fellow for having to face the wrath of Alexandrite (though he would never admit such a thing out loud). She hit hard in anger, this situation had shown, and he thought that perhaps she crossed a line. No, she definitely did. This was hardly a fair situation in which to claim his victory over Malfoy. It didn't sit right with him how it had happened, and he found himself considering actively attempting to repair their friendship so he could win properly. He quickly brushed the idea aside with a quick laugh. He wasn't turning soft, was he? Winning was winning, he supposed, though he would hardly stop the two from repairing their friendship once they got over their current anger and hurt feelings.

"There you are, Longbottom." Zacharias called, "I've been looking for you, you know."

The kind boy turned to him in surprise, looking a little nervous, "You have? Why?"

He answered, "Well, I figured that you would have the best idea of what this fight of Malfoy's and Alexandrite's is about."

"Oh." said Neville, before launching into his tale.

"Isn't this a mess?" Zacharias sighed at long last, "Neither are in the right, not totally."

Malfoy's position at the time was an understandable one, no matter how much he hated it. However, Alexandrite's position made sense, too. He sensed more to her anger, but didn't know what more it could be, so pushed the possibility aside for the time being.

Neville nodded miserably, "I wish she'd listen to me."

Zacharias snorted, "If anything, you only made it worse. You would have done better leaving the situation alone. You trying to defend Malfoy's actions only makes her more angry, you see. It only further proves that you will not stand up for yourself, and that you need her to protect you. For future reference, it would probably be better to let me or… _Michelangelo."_ he said it with clear distaste, "deal with the situation. As outsiders, it would be easier for us to calm her down, if anything can. I'll let them fight it out, but I will stop things if they go too far, Longbottom. You have my word on that. And by the way-"

Zacharias smirked, "I won't tell Alexandrite where you are going."

Neville smiled back, "And I won't tell her that you really are a nice person."

With that, the other boy gave him a quick hug before scampering off to talk with Malfoy. Zacharias watched him leave.

"Huh." he breathed. Such a display of affection wasn't something he'd expected.

 _You know, maybe I should do nice things more often…_ he snorted aloud at his thoughts barely a moment later, _nah, that was a cute thought, but my good deeds quota has been filled for the book. Wouldn't want to ruin my stone hearted reputation, after all._

 **Neville's POV**

Neville was thinking hard, searching the corridors. He wanted to talk to Draco, but wasn't sure where the other boy would be. He was only just now realizing he hadn't thought it through at all. How was he going to find Draco, much less get him alone, and then convince him to talk to him? This wasn't exactly his area of expertise, after all.

He was so absorbed in trying to figure out what he would do that he didn't notice the person coming around the corner until he ran into someone.

Neville looked up, _well, I guess this solves my first two problems._

Unfortunately, he still had no clue what he would even say to Draco, or if he'd even listen. All he knew is that he wanted to talk to him. What was he supposed to say? He probably would have been better off asking Zacharias for advice, even if he doubted the Hufflepuff boy was the best person to ask. However, as the most similar of all of them to Draco (not that he would have mentioned that to him), he might have known how to better get through to him.

 _Well, it's too late for that now._

Draco, however, didn't seem to understand that Neville wanted to talk to him, instead refusing to look at him and hurrying away.

"Draco, wait!" Neville called. He refused to let this chance slip by, even if he'd probably only make everything worse. He had to try.

The blonde stopped, slowly turning to face him, saying nothing.

"Um… how are you doing?" he cringed. Seriously, _how are you doing?_

"'How am I doing?'" Draco repeated, with the air of someone who wasn't sure whether he should laugh at the question or start yelling in anger.

"Okay, okay, I know, but I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I just… I want to talk, okay?" Neville said, stumbling over his words. Sometimes, he really hated being socially awkward.

Draco made a face, "What is there to talk about, Neville?"

 _Aha, use of first name! Maybe not all is lost._

"Look… I'm sorry. About how Alex reacted. I tried to stop her, to explain things. She just wouldn't listen." Neville said, staring at his feet.

Draco said nothing for several long moments, before he finally asked, eyes trained on the wall to the side, "How is your arm?"

"My arm?" repeated Neville in confusion, before recalling the earlier flying incident, "Oh, it's fine."

Draco sighed, "Look, this is obviously useless. Whatever you have to say, say it, or you'll just have to find me later."

"I'm still your friend. You know that, right, Draco?" Neville asked. Draco froze, his eyes slowly finding Neville's. Neville shifted from foot to foot nervously, trying to read the expression in his icy eyes. Had he said the wrong thing?

At last, Draco broke the silence, demanding, "I just don't get it. Why? Of everyone, you have the most right to be angry with me. It would make _sense_ if you were angry. So why aren't you? _Why don't you hate me?"_

Neville wanted to cry, seeing the emotions that Draco was evidently trying so hard to mask swimming in the ice that was his eyes. Wondering if he would be swept away by the force of them, Neville shrugged.

Draco turned from him, his hands balled into fists so tightly that Neville wondered if his nails would draw blood. His voice shook as he said, "You _should_ hate me."

"No." Neville replied, taking a step forward to put his hand on Draco's shoulder (he didn't know why, it just seemed like the right move), "And I won't hate you."

Neville realized that he was shaking as the blonde whispered, " _Please_ hate me. _Please."_

"No." Neville repeated. "I can't do that."

Wrenching his shoulder from Neville's grip, he cried, "Stop! Just stop! You don't have to look at me like that, I don't need pity, okay?"

"I don't pity you." Neville replied quietly, "I just want to help."

"I don't _need_ help, especially not from you!" Draco yelled, "Just leave me alone, okay? You'd be better off that way."

Neville said, "I can't do that. You need someone, Draco. Even you can't be alone, you know."

The blonde boy couldn't seem to find words. At long last, he turned and fled down the hall. Neville watched him go, but knew it would be better not to pursue him. He'd said what had needed to be said, and now he just needed to give Draco time and space.

"He'll come around," Neville said to himself, starting towards the Gryffindor Common Room, "Probably."

 **Haven's POV**

"What the hell happened?" she wondered groggily, sitting up and looking around. She was… in a broom closet? Why? And how? Haven rubbed her eyes, standing up. She moved her left hand, before she realized that it held a piece of paper.

 _To Apprentice Alex,_

 _You may be wondering how exactly you ended up waking up in a broom cupboard. Well, good for you, we have the answer for that- we put you there, of course. That would lead to the next logical questions- "Why would such nice gentlemen leave a lady in a broom cupboard?" Our answer to that is that now that you are our Apprentice, as your Masters, we must train you. And what better way than to have you out of bed after hours! If you can get back without being caught, we'll consider you ready to learn more. If you prank people or find secret passages on the way, you'll earn bonus points! Don't do too many dangerous things, though, we want our Apprentice back in the morning. Have fun!_

 _\- Masters Fred and George Weasley_

"When I see them again, I'm going to kill them." Haven muttered, crumbling up the slip of paper. "Was this seriously necessary?"

Sighing, she shoved it in her pocket, and stood up. She might as well start finding her way back, though she had no clue where she was. However, once she found her way, she shouldn't have any problems. Haven doubted she would be caught, but she would be cautious. She had already gotten into enough trouble for the day, no need to make it worse.

"Might as well get this over with," she muttered, leaning against the door to listen for anyone moving in the hall outside. After several long moments of listening, she was satisfied, slowly opening to door and wincing every time it creaked.

Straining her ears to hear any noise made, she crept down the dark corridors. At last, after a long time spent walking and wondering if she'd end up in the dungeons before she made it back, she came to the end of a corridor, discovering a locked door.

 _Why the hell not?_ She thought with a shrug, _might as well make the most of this._

The raven-haired first year drew out her wand, whispering, " _Alohomora!"_

The lock clicked, the door swinging open. She crept inside, closing the door behind her. Slowly, careful not to make any sound, she turned and observed the room.

Her eyes went wide, as her voice came out in a somewhat strangled whisper, "Oh. That's unexpected."

She was in another corridor. Only, this one looked to be the forbidden one on the third floor that Professor Dumbledore had warned them against and she had made a mental note to investigate.

 _Well, thanks to Fred and George, I can mark that off my list._ Haven thought drily, staring into one pair of eyes of a huge dog with three heads. All three noses twitched and quivered, picking up her scent. It also had three mouths hanging half-open, saliva dripping from huge yellowing teeth. Beneath one of it's great clawed feet was a wooden trapdoor.

Getting over it's shock, it began growling loud enough to attract the attention of anyone nearby. Cursing, she threw open the door and slammed it behind her, praying no one was close enough to hear her, though they probably would have already heard those thundering growls.

She ran down a few corridors until she knew she had gone far enough away from the noise to be safer, slowing back down to her silent, creeping gait from before. Now that she knew where she was, it was easy enough to navigate her way back to the Common Room, to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Where on earth have you been at this time of night?" the woman in the portrait demanded.

Haven sighed, "I really don't want to talk about it. Pig snout, and have a nice night."

She entered the Common Room, glaring at the twins who had been waiting on two armchairs for her. They gave her identical grins.

"I hate you both. I hope you are happy with yourselves. Because of you, I nearly became three-headed-dog-chow." she informed them.

They both traded a look, George saying, "That's a bit… unexpected."

"Yeah, in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Do I get bonus points for that?" Haven asked sarcastically. With identical serious looks, they both nodded briskly.

"I had no clue where you two put me. Did you at least know where I was?" she inquired, sitting down across from them on a chair.

"You decided where we put her, right?" Fred asked his twin with a frown.

George shook his head, "No, that was you. I thought you knew-"

"Do you mean to tell me," her voice was beginning to get dangerous, "That you two had absolutely no clue to where I was. If I hadn't been able to find myself, I would have been on my own."

"No," said Fred nervously.

George added, "Of course we knew where you were. We aren't stupid."

"Uh-huh." she said doubtfully, before warning them, "I won't forget this, you know. I'll be getting my revenge."

"Our apprentice is so cute, trying to be intimidating, huh?" Fred asked George.

Haven smiled, "Cute, huh? You won't be of that same opinion soon enough."

Both frown, George saying, "You know, she sort of looks like Ginny right now. Is that a bad thing?"

"Probably." answered Fred, "We might have made a mistake. But it'll be fun to see if our darling Apprentice can live up to her claims."

"Oh, I can." she told them ominously, before exiting the room to get her homework done in the dormitory.

* * *

 **So, thoughts? Please? They make me so happy.**


	18. Chapter 18: Listen

**Before we begin, a little on the last two chapters.**

 **Some of you are of the opinion that Haven overreacted. Which is fine, because she did (after all, she's only eleven years old). However, how would you feel if your friend returned late at night with bruises, legs stuck together, and looking miserable? When you are a protective mother wolf, pretty mad. Just throwing that out there.**

 **Either next chapter or the one after I am planning on checking in on our favorite Hunting brothers. Don't have seizures! I'm going on adorable SamandDean withdrawals too.**

 **Thank you for every follow, favorite, and review. The numbers are starting to scare me a little. It's scary how many people read the words I write O.O**

 **Well, that sums up that mess. I own nothing, so please read and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Listen**

The next week Haven spent her time pondering what exactly was hidden in the trap door guarded by the three-headed dog. She had told Fred and George about the trapdoor when her irritation with them had faded a little in the morning after her 'test' as they put it. However, they didn't seem to think it was as interesting as she did. Haven guessed that the trapdoor might guard what Hagrid had taken from the vault in Gringotts, but she wasn't sure about it. Whatever was there was either highly valuable, dangerous, or both. She considered actually looking in the trapdoor, but she would first have to find a way to make it past the three-headed dog.

 _Seriously, though, why would you put something like that in a school? If a student gets lost, they could easily be killed. Sure, the ones who seek out the forbidden corridor knew what they were getting into, but it is so easy to lose your way here. Just one accident…_

Her hunting instincts flared at having such a danger so near innocent students, despite their magical power. She couldn't see any of them as monsters- they were just children with an odd skill in her mind.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the large parcel carried by six owls headed her way until they dropped it on the table, spilling her water and knocking her bacon to the floor. Another owl quickly dropped a letter on top of the parcel. Seeing the letter, she momentarily thought about her brothers, wondering if she'd be getting a letter from them any time soon. Banishing it from her mind, she grabbed the letter and ripped it open.

Do not open this parcel at the table. _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

"What's that?" asked Michelangelo. Instead of answering, she handed him the letter. He began reading, Neville leaning over so he could also find out what was going on.

Neville gasped, "A Nimbus Two-"

" _Sh!"_ Haven ordered, "Don't announce it to the world. No one else is supposed to know. I'm going to go put it up in the dormitory before classes start."

Halfway across the entrance hall, Malfoy and two of his bodyguards blocked her way upstairs. Malfoy took the package from her.

"That's a broomstick." he informed her, throwing it back to her.

"Oh, thanks for that knowledge," she replied sarcastically, catching the broomstick easily, "I had not clue."

Crossing his arms, Malfoy said, "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

"Really?" she replied, her tone still dripping with sarcasm, "You're just full of information today, aren't you?"

"Are you trying to get yourself expelled?" Malfoy demanded, "You knew about it, you aren't _that_ dense, so why-"

"Not arguing, I hope, children?" Professor Flitwick squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick." Malfoy informed him quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right." replied Professor Flitwick, beaming, "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, I think, sir," she replied, before having a stroke of genius, "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I got it in the first place."

She had to smother her laughter as she headed upstairs. The look on the face of him and his friends had been priceless.

* * *

At dinner that night, Fred and George claimed the spots to either side of her, forcing her two other Gryffindor friends to move across the table. Zacharias also sat with them, sullen because she had dragged him over to be social since he had still failed to make friends with the Hufflepuffs.

"You two can't keep me long this evening," Haven informed the twins. "I have to meet with Wood at seven."

"We know." they replied as one, "We won't keep you."

George added in a conspiratorial whisper, "We like our heads, you see. He'd probably chop them clean off if we were to make you late."

"He takes things a little _too_ seriously, Oliver does." Fred commented.

"If that is the case, then shouldn't I not be hearing this?" asked Zacharias moodily, moving his food around the plate without eating it, "I'm in another House, and having me know about the situation could compromise his plan to keep Alexandrite as his 'secret weapon' or whatever."

"As long as you keep your mouth shut, we should be fine." George answered with a small shrug.

"That being said," Fred threatened, "You say a word, we'll get our revenge, even if we have to do it as ghosts."

"Something lasting." George added helpfully, "Very painful."

Zacharias, for his part, didn't gulp or pale, but he did seem to get the message clearly enough, replying in a melancholy tone, "Whatever. It's not like it's worth my time to say anything about it."

Neville looked his way with a concerned expression, asking in a careful voice, "Zacharias, is something wrong?"

The amber-eyed boy didn't look up as he replied, "No. Why should anything be wrong?"

"He's probably just upset that he looked so undignified when Alex dragged him over," Michelangelo said, though he seemed to be more concerned than his words let on, shooting the sandy blonde a few questioning looks. Zacharias stabbed his fork into his food, before abruptly sitting up and storming off, out of the room.

The group watched him in concern, Neville standing up to chase after him.

"Wait, Neville," Michelangelo said, grabbing him gently by the arm, "Maybe we should give him some space."

Neville looked doubtful, but slowly allowed himself to be pulled back down with a thoughtful expression.

"We'll talk to him tomorrow, Neville." Haven told him, before standing up, "I have to go, see you tomorrow."

* * *

"Where have you _been?!"_ demanded Michelangelo in a low voice, "The girls all said you weren't there this morning, and then we couldn't find you in the common room! Did you sneak out all night?!"

Haven sighed, wearily grabbing a glass of water and putting a few things on her breakfast plate. She shook her head, before answering, "No, I was getting out of practice, so I decided that the mornings were as good a time as any for Hunter training. I think I'm going to have to get into the practice of doing it every morning."

"Don't you ever sleep?!" the tall boy demanded, "You stay up late because the Twins drag you off this way and that, you have Quidditch practice to attend, not to mention homework, and now you're going to spend time in the mornings… wait, what are you doing?"

"Hunter Training. Making sure if we all got attacked by a Shifter one of these days, I could deal with it. And I still get three to four hours of sleep, so I'll be fine. Not like I usually sleep much longer than that." Haven answered with a shrug, downing the glass of water.

" _Three to four hours?!"_ Michelangelo squeaked. "Neville, tell her it isn't healthy!"

Neville (un)helpfully turned to her and said, "It isn't healthy."

"You didn't even sound like you meant it! Maybe I should go get Zacharias… He might talk some sense into you..." Michelangelo grumbled.

"Hey, if she doesn't want to sleep, then how am I supposed to stop her?" Neville asked, "She does what she wants."

"I also need to figure out what I'm going to do about my schooling. My muggle schooling, that is. I want to graduate high school, but how am I going to do that now?" she asked.

Both boys shrugged unhelpfully.

"Maybe I'll have to self study. I could probably fit it in, it'll just cut into training time, and I'll have to do most of it on weekends." Haven said. "That, and I'm sure Sam would help me over the breaks."

"Sam's you're little brother, right?" inquired Neville, nibbling on his food, seeming to have little interest in actually eating much of it.

"Yeah." she replied, before looking over to the Hufflepuff table, a frown growing on her face, "Where's Zacharias? Did he come in here earlier? I didn't see him on my way here."

Instantly, both boys turned to look.

"No, I haven't seen him at all." Michelangelo replied, turning to Neville, "You?"

Neville shook his head. "We should find him and figure out what is going on."

"We don't have much time," Haven said, "We'll have to find him quickly. Any ideas as to where he could be?"

"Looks like the ickle firsties need some help." Fred Weasley said, leaning down over them, his twin at his side.

"We'd appreciate it." Haven replied, rolling her eyes at him.

George nodded, "Well, finding people is one of the many departments we specialize in. Come on, this way."

The twins led them with purpose, seeming to know exactly where they were going as they trotted down the corridors.

"Did you two already know where he is?" Michelangelo asked curiously, his longer legs easily keeping pace with the twins.

They both turned to him, fingers to their lips, "Sh, trade secret."

As they continued walking, Haven realized she could hear something. She listened hard, unsure.

"What is that?" Neville asked, turning to them. Haven brought a hand down to silence him, trying to hear.

As they kept walking, the sound began getting louder, until it was apparent that the noise was a flute. Whoever played the flute was talented. The music was beautiful, and clear, but there was something haunting about each note.

They stopped at a door. It was apparent from the sound that flute and player were inside the room. They listened to the music for a few moments longer, before the twins broke the silence.

"He'll be in here." they whispered, huge grins on their faces.

The jaws of the first years dropped.

"You mean-" Michelangelo hissed, "That's _him?!"_

George shrugged, "See for yourself."

Haven reached out for the door, slowly opening it so that not a squeak from the hinges would disturb the lovely sound of the flute.

Inside, with his back turned to them, was Zacharias. He was facing a window looking out into the forest beyond, the sun outlining his figure with light. To their shock, he was indeed the flute player, though Fred and George did not seemed surprised. No one spoke, simply content to listen for several minutes.

The twins were the ones who saw fit to break the silence, "Nice playing there. Very lovely."

Zacharias jumped, the clear note turning into a terrible, deafening shriek. He whirled around to face them, his cheeks pink from embarrassment.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" he demanded, in an undignified tone so very unlike him that Haven had to suppress a giggle.

"We were looking for you." Neville answered, "We were worried. You play very beautifully, you know."

"You can't just sneak up on me like that!" he huffed, stowing his flute into a case carefully. "And why exactly were you _worried?"_

"Well, little Hufflepuff," said Fred, "When you storm off like that, it tends to make your more caring friends think that something is wrong."

"What _I_ would like to know is how you two found him so quickly." Haven said, crossing her arms, "It was like you already knew where he was. Did you have some sort of tracking device or charm on him, or all of us?"

Both twins grinned, "You can't prove anything, little Apprentice."

She glared, before turning to Zacharias, her finger pointed to him, "We'll all have to go to class soon. But first I want to know what is going on with you, and the truth, if you please."

He crossed his arms, "Why does something have to be wrong with me? Absolutely nothing of note is happening, aside from all of you making menaces of yourselves."

"It's our specialty!" Fred and George commented. Haven ignored them.

"Weren't you the one to tell me that if you can't lie well, you shouldn't do it at all? Because it makes people more interested? Well, that applies to you, too." Haven informed him, hip cocked to the side.

Zacharias exclaimed in a somewhat bitter tone, "Excuse you, I lied well, it's just you already knew it was a lie!"

"Well, I'd better hear the truth soon." she replied, "I can afford to miss a few classes, can you? You'll find I'm much more stubborn than you are, so it's best to be out with it now."

He didn't answer, amber eyes glaring at her. Not taking her eyes off him, she sat down at one of the desks by the door, lounging back comfortably, hands going behind her head.

"You all can go off to class, you don't need to be late." Haven informed the others, "We shouldn't be too long."

"Are you sure?" Neville asked, "You shouldn't miss class."

"Eh." she replied with a shrug, "I've already read ahead, a few classes shouldn't kill me. Besides, I doubt we'll miss much. Go on, shoo."

The twins and Michelangelo left quickly enough. Neville paused by the door, uncertain.

"Go on, Neville." she said, "You need to be in class more than I do."

"Alright." Neville finally replied, leaving the two alone.

Zacharias let out a puff of breath, "You aren't going to let me out of here until I give you an answer you are satisfied with, are you?"

"Nope." she replied, staring at the ceiling. "By the way, you are very good."

"Huh?"

"With your flute. Though you hardly look like the kind of boy to play the flute, however, looks are often deceiving." Haven answered.

"Oh. Thank you, I guess." Zacharias replied, sounding uncomfortable. He leaned against a desk in front of her own, another desk separating them. His eyes stared absently out the window at the morning sky. The silence stretched on.

"Are you going to start anytime soon?" Haven finally asked, taking her eyes from the ceiling. "Or should I start for you?"

Zacharias sighed in defeat, "I don't know why you want to know. It's… it's stupid."

"Well, I want to know because I'm your friend and friends are concerned about this sort of thing," Haven said, "So, would this stupid thing have anything to do with the fact that your housemates may as well be shunning you?"

He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, "... was it that obvious?"

"Yeah, kind of." Haven replied, pushing her chair back and standing up, stretching her arms over her head, "If you pay attention, it's clear that none of them like you very much, nor do they talk to you. All someone would have to do is look over to the Hufflepuff table at any mealtime. There's a few feet of space between you and the people beside you, more than the normal length of space. It's not a hard conclusion to come to."

After a few moments of silence, Haven added, "Maybe you should try being, oh, I don't know, _friendly_ to them."

"I _am_ friendly," Zacharias argued, glaring at her.

She snorted, "He says he's friendly. Has he even listened to the words that come out of his mouth?"

"Hey!"

"Alright, I'm sure you can be sort of friendly. Can't even make a joke around here," she replied, shaking her head.

"Aren't you supposed to be making me feel better or something?" Zacharias demanded, "Because you are terrible at it."

"But I am making you feel better," Haven replied with a smirk.

Zacharias huffed, "What you're doing is being annoying."

She shrugged, "Exactly."

"And this is why I am glad we are not in the same House!" Zacharias exclaimed, "If they weren't already all insane, you would have driven them to it!"

"Probably," she conceded nonchalantly.

"Ugh!"

"You'll live. But we should probably get to class at some point. Or we could just stay here if you don't want to. Either way works for me." Haven said.

"As if I would want to stay here." Zacharias replied, but he did not move towards the door. Haven smiled, walking over and sitting on the desk he leaned on. She patted him on the shoulder, before laying down, legs dangling from the table.

"You're supposed to sit in desks, you know." Zacharias told her in a soft voice that lacked bite, "Not lay on top of them."

"I know, I know, but it's more comfortable this way." she replied, swinging her legs forward and back, "You should try it some time."

He let out a small laugh, before saying, "No."

"You can actually laugh?" she said in a mock-surprised voice, "Hell must be freezing over!"

As she giggled, he lightly hit her shoulder, saying, "Oh, stop being ridiculous. It's unbecoming."

"Oh, the horror!" she cried, laughing harder. His lips twitched into a tiny smile.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Zacharias sighed in a weary tone.

"Don't worry if you don't know." she replied, "Because I also have no clue what to do with me."

Zacharias smothered another laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"I try!" she chirped.

* * *

 **Next chapter is Halloween... Oh wonder what will happen...**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19: I Miss You

**Edit 12/29/16: I realized thanks to a kind reviewer that Hermione lying made no sense. Don't even know why I kept it, it was late and I was rushing. So I changed that part. It's not really much of a change.**

 **Hello everyone! Thank you for your continued support, you do realize we have 202 reviews? What even is this? You guys are awesome, and helping me become a better writer, so thank you, awesome human beings. Much love and hugs.**

 **I own... yep, that's right, NOTHING. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: I Miss You**

Haven stared at the letter, a hollow feeling in her chest and a lump in her throat. The letter was the one she had sent to Dean and Sam weeks ago.

And Hedwig had returned it to her unopened.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced a neutral expression onto her face lest one of her friends suspect something. "Hey, um, guys, I forgot I needed to check something for next class, I'll see you all later, alright?"

Not waiting for a response, she fled the Great Hall, letter clutched tightly in her hand. She took sanctuary on the grounds, in the grass and smells of nature. For a little while, she just lay in the grass, letting a few tears fall from her eyes as fear latched on.

Was her family dead? Did they hate her now, and refuse to look at her letters? Was something wrong with the owl? Could Hedwig not find them? Did they miss her?

Had her dad or Dean forgiven her?

She was nearly paralyzed with fear and uncertainty, but nonetheless, she repeated one thought over and over: _I am Dean. I am Dean. I am Dean._

 _They're safe… I am Dean, I am Dean… They have to be alive… I am Dean… They're fine… I am Dean, I am Dean… They'll respond, just give them time… I am Dean, I am Dean, I am Dean… I am Dean_

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and returned to the school, making her way to Charms. She decided to ask her friends a few questions about how owl mail worked later on as she went. Once she arrived, taking her seat beside Neville, Professor Flitwick announced that they would begin learning to make things fly, as his 'Halloween treat'.

She sighed, Halloween had never been her favorite holiday. Free candy was alright, but so many myths and monsters surrounded the holiday that it wasn't much fun. That, and people wore costumes and pretended to be something they saw as make believe that in reality was very real and very terrifying.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Flitwick from atop his pile of books, "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick! And saying the magic words properly is very important, too- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

She let Neville go first, coaxing him to try and gently helping him along. He didn't manage to get the feather to float, but she kept trying. She didn't feel up to trying it herself, preferring to stare into the distance and brood when she wasn't giving Neville tips.

At the table next to them, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were squabbling (as usual), Hermione trying to help in a patronizing sort of voice while he snarled back at her. The only thing she really knew about Hermione is that she performed remarkably well in classes and seemed to be a walking textbook. And Ron? Well, he was a bit of a slacker.

"Oh, well done!" cried the Professor, clapping, "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

After class, as the group jostled their way to next class, Ronald Weasley (who hung out with Seamus and Michelangelo) proclaimed loudly, "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly."

Hermione knocked into Haven as she ran by, tears falling down her face.

"I think she heard you." Michelangelo informed him in a disapproving tone.

"So?" asked Ron, looking a little uncomfortable, "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Haven frowned, deciding to make an effort to befriend the girl from now on. Hermione didn't show up the next class, or that afternoon. Haven asked Parvati and Lavender where she might be (they seemed to make it their mission to gather gossip, they were very good for information about people), and Parvati told her she was in the girl's bathroom, and wanted to be left alone.

The feast held was quite good, even if Haven wasn't particularly in the mood to enjoy it. She lost her appetite when featured among the desserts, she noted pies were among them.

"Aren't you hungry?" Neville asked, eyeing her plate.

She shrugged, "No, not really."

Neville frowned, but let the discussion drop.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open, Professor Quirrell running inside. Haven stood up, taking in his frantic state. Something was wrong.

"Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know…" with that, the Professor fell over onto the ground in a dead faint. Students began screaming immediately, while Haven quickly tried to recall everything she knew about trolls.

She stopped in her tracks as Professor Dumbledore's words reminded her that she was a student here. She would not be allowed to find the troll herself- she'd be expected to hide and let the adults handle everything.

It irked Haven to allow another to hunt down the troll, but the pointed looks of her friends convinced her to allow herself to be led with the rest of the Gryffindors towards their Common Room.

That was until she remembered Hermione.

"Guys!" she hissed to the two beside her, "Hermione wasn't at the feast, she's in the girl's bathroom… and she doesn't know about the troll."

"Alex…" Michelangelo said slowly, "Please don't tell me…"

"I'm going to tell her. I'll be back with her soon, alright?" with that, she made her escape when the attention of the prefects was distracted.

"Alex!" Neville called. She turned around, seeing her two Gryffindor friends running after her.

"You two don't have to follow me." she informed them, "I know what I'm doing."

"We're not letting you be an idiot alone," Michelangelo told her, "Come on, before the troll gets up here."

"Or we get caught." Neville added. Shrugging helplessly, she ran off in the direction of the bathroom Hermione was supposed to be in.

They were nearly there when they heard it… and smelled it, for that matter. Haven stopped, throwing her arms out to stop the other two. Thankfully, neither friend let out a scream as she had feared.

Finger to her lips, she quietly advanced forward a few steps, arm motion for the other two to stay put. She didn't have a gun on her, they were all back in her dorm room, because they couldn't be hidden like her knives could be.

 _Weak spots, weak spots… underarms, the head… It'll be pretty tall, probably, so I'll need to get up high… I can have the other two provide a distraction._

She froze as she reached the corner, realizing that the troll was entering the bathroom… where Hermione was.

"Hermione!" she yelped, racing after the troll, "It's entering the bathroom!"

She didn't pause to figure out if the others had followed her. Hermione could be hurt.

A high-pitched scream sounded through the corridor. Haven drew a knife and her wand (though she only knew a few spells, it was a weapon… even if it didn't feel like one).

In the bathroom, Hermione was inside one of the stalls, staring up at the troll, who loomed over the stall. The troll carried a huge club in it's hand, raised above it's head to strike down at the girl.

"Hey! You! Ugly!" Haven yelled, taking a book out of her school bag to throw it at the head of the troll. Surprised, it stopped mid-swing to turn to observe her.

She looked over at Hermione, "Get out, now!" she ordered, not sparing any more time for the other girl as she dived out of the way of the monster's club.

That was when Neville and Michelangelo arrived, panting from the sprint to the bathroom.

"That's a big troll." Michelangelo breathed, "My sisters would never _believe_ this."

Haven dodged another blow, careful to avoid tripping over the wreckage that the troll was creating, as she yelled to the two boys, "Distract it!"

"Do you have a plan?" Michelangelo asked as she gripped one of her knives.

"Well-" she dodged again, "Sort of?"

Michelangelo squawked, "Sort of?!"

"Hey! Over here!" Neville, it appeared, was willing to trust her half-baked plan, as he picked up some of the wreckage and began throwing it at the troll, one of his projectiles hitting it right in it's left eye. The troll, angry now, roared, swinging his club at Neville, and by proximity, Michelangelo, who yelped as he dodged.

"Can we _not_ make the troll angry?!" Michelangelo demanded, pulling out his wand, "I have no intentions of dying today!"

Haven ignored him, climbing up the remains of a stall. She crouched atop it, trying to figure out how exactly this would work. She wanted to get on top of the troll so she could stab it's head, or at least it's upper body, which wasn't exactly going to be easy. There was also the chance that the troll could decide she looked more fun and break her perch. She couldn't risk informing the other two of her plan lest she draw it's attention to her.

Neville, fortunately, had to dive towards her to escape the club, bringing the troll closer. She narrowed her eyes. Just a little closer…

She jumped.

"What in the blazes are you doing?!" Michelangelo demanded. She didn't answer, bringing her knife up, and then down.

The troll howled, swinging around wildly in an attempt to dislodge her, Neville and Michelangelo completely forgotten. She wrapped her arms around it's neck, only to find out that to be a bad idea as it swatted at her with it's club. By ducking, she barely managed to avoid it.

"Wait, Alex!" Neville called, "Can you make it hit itself on the head with that club?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" she demanded. Haven yelped as she nearly slipped, managing to save herself by stabbing into the troll's tough skin with her knife and hanging on that way. She hauled herself back onto its shoulders, dodging again but accidentally dropping her knife in the process.

Hermione (why was she still here?) grabbed the knife and began stabbing the troll's foot. The troll roared again, kicking the girl into a wall as Haven climbed onto the troll's head, hitting it repeatedly with her fists, regardless of the fact that they did nothing.

She looked up, watching as the club went up, then began coming down at her.

"Jump!" Michelangelo and Neville screamed. She complied, jumping down from the troll as it hit itself in the head, knocking itself out and nearly falling on top of Haven, who dodged just in time, despite her ankle hurting from her bad fall (probably sprained).

"Ow…" Haven said, "Remind me not to jump onto trolls anymore."

"Is it dead?" Michelangelo asked, edging towards the body as Neville ran over to Hermione.

"Nah," Haven said, "Just knocked out, I think. Is Hermione okay?"

"I'm okay." she heard Hermione reply, slowly sitting up with Neville's help. "Why did you come here? And what's a troll doing here?"

"I don't know what it's doing here, but Professor Quirrell ran in during the feast screaming about a troll in the dungeons, so everyone went to their Common Rooms. But you didn't know about it, so I thought I'd come and get you." Haven answered, "What I want to know is why it's here and not in the dungeons."

"Maybe it followed Professor Quirrell up." Neville replied, "We should get you two to Madam Pomphrey."

"You four!" a voice shrieked, "What are you even _doing?!"_

"Oh no…" Haven muttered.

"Do you have any idea what you have done? What on _earth_ possessed you to go after a _mountain troll?!_ You could have been killed, you could have-"

"Wait, Professor." Hermione-Hermione- interrupted, "They weren't going after it! I had left the feast, I was in here, and these three came to warn me that a troll was loose. But when they got here, the troll had already found me."

"She's right." Haven added, "I knew she was in here, so I didn't want her to be out in the halls when the troll was out."

The Professor observed the unconscious troll, then the four students. "Next time, Ms. Potter, I hope you will inform a prefect or a teacher, and not go yourself."

That's what she had forgotten!

"As it stands, five points from Gryffindor for not informing authority of a dangerous situation from the three of you, and five points to all for of you for sheer dumb luck."

Haven made a noise of protest, before conceding that she had relied on luck a bit there.

"Are any of you hurt?" Professor McGonagall asked, quickly examining the students, taking in Haven favoring her left leg and Hermione covered in dust with Neville fretting at her side.

Neville answered for them, dusting off Hermione's uniform, "Hermione was thrown into the wall and Alex jumped from the troll's head, I think she hurt her ankle."

"Let's take you girls to the Hospital Wing, then." McGonagall decided, coming over to help Haven walk.

"It's just a sprain," Haven protested, "I've had worse. I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing."

Hospitals of any kind made her extremely uncomfortable. They were, as a rule, a big no-no if they could be avoided, and often came with uncomfortable questions from social workers who were convinced Haven and her siblings were abused in some way.

"No arguing." the Professor was firm. Haven refused help walking, but reluctantly followed the Professor to the Hospital Wing. Hermione had to be helped by Neville, who kept shooting glances at Haven the entire walk there.

Haven suffered under the care of Madam Pomphrey for awhile before she was finally free. The one good thing about it was that it gave her time to plan her revenge against Fred and George.

It was quite simple. She'd do what they'd done to her- leave them alone in somewhere in the castle with nothing but pajamas and a wand… and she'd separate them, too. Maybe color all of their things pink while they were away. Good thing she had leftover paint from the last Winchester Prank War and had thought to bring it along 'just in case'.

The plan was executed flawlessly that night. She did some reading about Wizarding Culture as she waited for them to get back.

George was the first to arrive, throwing open the portrait hole and asking, "Is Fred here yet?"

"Nope." Haven replied, turning the page. "Wanna wait with me?"

The boy glared at her for all of a second before grinning good-naturedly and sitting down, shaking glitter out of his clothes and hair.

She grinned. She'd decided that glitter would be a fun addition, especially in their dorms. That, and she'd painted cat whiskers on their faces with the paint and stuck some glitter in that. She wasn't sure if the other boy had noticed yet.

Well, he did notice when Fred arrived with whiskers, but what can you do?

* * *

 **Sam's POV**

Sam sighed, keeping in step with Dean as they walked down the dimly-lit street. Dusk was settling on the town they were staying in, the road lit by the few streetlights that still functioned, as most had long since gone out.

He looked up at the sky, wondering for what must have been the thousandth time how Haven was doing. He hadn't heard from her since she'd left about two months ago, and it worried him. He knew not to bring it up around dad, who was firm in the stance that she had never existed, and hated when she was mentioned.

Dean never said anything, but Sam thought he missed her, too. But he'd also been hurt by her leaving. Sam didn't know how long it would take Dean to completely forgive her, but he had faith that Dean would, one day.

If she was even still alive at all.

Sam didn't know, but he couldn't keep his fears silent any longer, "Dean…?"

"What, Sam?" Dean asked in his exasperated older-brother tone that he used against the younger boy often.

"Do you… do you think Haven's okay?" Sam asked with the care one took with priceless glass items.

Dean stopped abruptly. Sam walked a few more steps forward before realizing he'd come to a halt.

"She'd probably fine." Dean remarked in an odd voice, starting forward again at a faster pace.

Sam frowned, trying to keep up, "But… we haven't heard from her. I miss her."

"Look, Sam, we- we don't need her. She left us! We're better off this way, you'll see. Just… forget about Haven. She isn't coming back. Not now, not ever." Dean exclaimed angrily. "She doesn't matter."

Sam ducked his head down, murmuring in a sad voice, "But… she's our sister. Family."

Dean pretended he hadn't spoken. They walked together in a tense silence as the sky darkened further, night descending upon them. Sam snuck a few glances up at Dean, wondering if he really did believe his own words. Sam was of the opinion that Dean just _wanted_ to believe it, but he didn't _actually_ believe it. He wasn't absolutely sure of this stance, as his brother's face gave him no indication of his true feelings.

It took him several unforgivably long moments to realize his brother's presence was no longer beside him. When he did, it was too late.

Sam turned, _too slow, too slow,_ mouth opening as he screamed out a frantic, "DEAN!"

* * *

 **Well... you wanted Sam and Dean... *smiles nervously* please don't kill me thanks love you too.**


	20. Chapter 20: Hold On

**Hiya humans! Look at us, on chapter 20. It feels like just yesterday baby Haven was begging John to teach her Hunting, and look at her now? Defeating trolls and making friends! Yay! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story so far, you humans are awesome and I love you all. You are the ones who motivate me to write chapters I can be proud of. So give yourselves a pat on the back.**

 **I own nothing, still. I haven't yet taken over to world, so I can't change that.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Hold On**

After the troll incident, Hermione took a permanent place within Haven's group of friends. It was nice, because Haven had never really had very many female friends, having always been more comfortable with boys than girls. Boys were simple, she'd grown up around them and could easily understand them. Girls were another story. They seemed to have some sort of secret code that Haven had never quite understood, and a language that involved looks and movements of eyebrows that left Haven feeling like they were all speaking some other language she had yet to learn.

Hermione, while being a girl, was a bit of an outcast among their kind as well, so it wasn't as difficult to understand her. In addition, the girl was intelligent, which was something Haven had great respect for.

Tomorrow was Haven's first Quidditch match- Gryffindor versus Slytherin, which was apparently one of the ugliest matches out of all of them. Word had gotten out about her being the new Seeker, and now she had to deal with people telling her she'd be brilliant or offering to carry a mattress for her to fall on. At first, she found it funny, but as the match got closer, it only got annoying.

She sighed, leaning back and rubbing her eyes. Haven had been spending so much time practicing for the next match that she'd started falling a little behind on homework. She was rather proud of her near top-of-the-class status, so she had decided to spend the day before in the library with her friends, working to catch up and maybe even get a little ahead if she was lucky.

As she observed her group of friends, she noticed what was missing.

"What's taking Michelangelo so long?" she asked, "We've been here awhile, I thought he said he'd only be a moment."

Everyone else automatically looked up, to the seat he normally occupied by Hermione.

"Perhaps something came up." Zacharias offered, before returning to his essay.

"Maybe." Haven replied with a shrug, returning to her work. As she wrote her History of Magic essay, her mind began wandering to her brothers, the worry that simmered below the surface forcing her to think on them. Were they okay? Were they alive? Did they miss her?

 _Focus, Haven._ She ordered herself, closing her eyes, _They're fine._

She tried to concentrate, but her mind wouldn't allow it. She had a terrible feeling that they were in danger, that they could already be dead, that they _needed_ her-

"Where have you been?" Hermione said, interrupting her thoughts.

Surprised, Haven looked up to see Michelangelo collapse onto a chair.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, putting down her quill to give the boy her attention.

"It's Professor Snape! I saw him, one of his legs was mangled, and then he said something about 'keeping an eye on all three heads at once'! But then he caught me, and got really angry, but I have no idea _why,_ I think he'd have taken fifty points if I hadn't gotten out of there. It was weird." Michelangelo informed them.

Haven considered this. Three heads? That sounded awfully like that three-headed-dog she'd run into thanks to the twins.

"Three heads at once? I think I know what he was talking about." Haven replied quietly. Immediately, everyone's attention was on her. "In the forbidden corridor, there's a three-headed-dog guarding a trapdoor."

She returned to her essay without another word.

"Of course you would have gone in the forbidden corridor," Zacharias drawled, "You've already proven that you are reckless, going after a troll."

Haven protested, "I wasn't going after a troll! That thing was supposed to be in the dungeons-"

"Wait! Guys, do you realize what this means?" Michelangelo interrupted, "Professor Snape must have let the troll in, and tried to get past that three-headed dog! Just hear me out- don't give me that look, Zacharias! After Alex ran ahead, me and Neville ran into Professor Snape- he must have been headed that way!"

"You're jumping to conclusions," Zacharias argued, "There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation behind all of this. Maybe Professor Snape was in charge of feeding the thing. We don't know, and without evidence there is no need to say things like that."

"Then why did the Professor react like that? You guys didn't see his face, it was…" Michelangelo didn't seem to have the proper words to explain himself."

"I don't know. But if Michelangelo's right, what might he be after? What is the dog guarding?" Haven mused aloud, "And if it's something that's important enough to guard with a dangerous three-headed-dog in the middle of a school full of students, why is it even here? Shouldn't it be… I don't know, elsewhere?"

The others were silent as they considered her statement.

"I doubt a Professor would go after something if Dumbledore is trying to keep safe." Hermione finally said, "Anyway, we have more important things to do than to worry about this. We all have studying to do, this isn't our problem."

Haven returned to her essay. She finally managed to finish it, though it was hardly up to her usual standards.

That night, she got little sleep. She just couldn't shake the feeling that her brothers were in danger, and that they _needed_ her, and she was letting them down the longer she stayed here. She missed her brothers terribly. The ache in her chest told her that her place was with them, that the longer she stayed away from them the more she would waste away, until she became little more than dust in the wind.

She curled up, shaking beneath her blanket, but refused to make a sound as tears slipped down her cheeks. She just wanted her brothers at her side, hell, she just wanted to know that they were alive. Was that too much to ask of them?

Were they ignoring her? Was Dean curled up like this on the other side of the ocean, wondering about her and feeling as if half of himself was missing? Did he even care how much she missed him?

The little sleep she managed to get was fitful, and left her more exhausted. Finally, she pulled herself out of bed, giving up on sleep. Everyone at breakfast was excited for the coming match, but she felt as if she was sleepwalking.

"You've got to eat something," Neville told her, holding a piece of toast for her.

She shook her head, mumbling something that might have been, "I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Alex. You need to eat something. You look half dead on your feet, you need some energy." Neville coaxed, breaking off a piece of toast and holding it in front of her face.

She just stared blankly ahead.

"Alex, just this one little bite." Neville said in that calming voice of his. It washed over her like drizzling rain, "You'll feel better afterwards. Please?"

Half-heartedly, she took the piece of toast he'd been holding in front of her and began slowly chewing on it. Slowly, Neville managed to get her to eat a few more bites of toast before she had to go to the Quidditch pitch.

In the locker room, after everyone had changed, Oliver Wood cleared his throat, "Okay, men."

"And women," added one of the Chasers, Angelina Johnson.

"And women," said Wood, "This is it."

"The big one." added Fred Weasley, wearing a grin.

"The one we've been waiting for." said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred whispered to Haven, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood, who despite himself seemed a little amused, "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them, as if to say, "Or else."

"Right, it's time. Good luck, all of you." Oliver said as a dismissal. Haven followed Fred and George out to the field, slightly less half-asleep then she had been earlier.

The crowd was cheering. Haven was touched when she noticed Michelangelo had painted a banner for her that had a roaring Gryffindor lion on it.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the field, waiting for the two teams, a broom in hand.

"Now, I want a nice, fair game, all of you." she said as they gathered around her, speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint. Haven took a deep breath. She would be fine. She'd faced way more dangerous things before.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Once everyone had followed said instruction, Madam Hooch gave a loud blast of her silver whistle. Haven immediately took off, deciding to try and find a vantage point in which to watch as the commentary began.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!" Haven grinned, that was Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor," said Lee Jordan, a friend of the twins.

Haven took her attention away from the commentary, blocking out all the sound as she scanned the air for any sign of gold.

Finally she saw it, zipping by a Slytherin Chaser. She dived after it, but the Slytherin Seeker had seen it, too. They were neck-and-neck, but Haven was faster. It was right ahead, she reached out for it-

WHAM! Marcus Flint blocked her, sending her off course.

"Foul!" came the call from the Gryffindors as she glared at the Slytherin. She'd almost had it, then the game would be over and she could go take a nap!

 _Well, I'm definitely awake now,_ she thought, returning to her search for the Snitch.

As she dodged another Bludger, Winchester Luck decided that it had to prove her earlier words about Quidditch being safer than a lot of things she'd done false. Her broom gave a sudden lurch, forcing her to cling onto it. Her broom had never once done that.

It lurched again, as if it was trying to knock her off. She hung on for dear life, muttering under her breath.

"Come on, don't do this to me, aren't we friends?" she whispered, as if the broom could hear her, "Agh! No, no, you aren't supposed to do this. Couldn't you wait until I'm not so high up in the air to start having issues? Hey!"

She tried to direct it to the ground, but it had gone completely out of control, zigzagging through the air, doing it's damndest to send her free-falling. Instead of bringing her closer to the ground, it instead seemed to be carrying her higher and higher, which wasn't helping her sanity. Especially when it started rolling over.

Then, as she finally began to breathe again when the rolling stopped, it gave a violent jerk and suddenly she was hanging from the broom with one hand. Her broom was vibrating, she barely managed to keep her hand attached.

"I am not about to be killed by a broom!" she vowed. The twins flew up, looking close to panicking.

"Hang on, Alex," George called over the wind and her own pounding heartbeat. Fred reached out to pull her to safety onto his broom, when her broom jumped up violently, nearly causing her to lost her grip.

George tried to grab her, only for the broom the jump higher still.

"Stop, stop! It's only going higher, I'm high enough as it is!" she shouted to them. The two of them began circling underneath her.

 _Well, at least I have a chance of someone catching me if I fall off._ She thought.

She continued jerking around, something gold flashing before her eyes before suddenly she was choking. That's when her broom decided to stop attempting murder, and she was able to climb back on. She sped to the ground, stumbling to her feet and coughing, until the Snitch fell into her hand. Her hand closed into a fist as she collapsed onto the ground, deciding she'd had enough excitement for a lifetime and she was just going to go to sleep right here on the safe ground that wasn't going to buck her off and to her death.

She held her arm up half-heartedly, not feeling like putting up the effort to inform everyone that she had gotten the Snitch.

Twenty minutes later she'd been half-carried to Hagrid's hut by Neville and Michelangelo. She hadn't felt like moving, she was dead tired.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Neville exclaimed when they arrived at Hagrid's. He threw his arms around her and buried his head into her shoulder. Haven pat his head, before leaning back and closing her eyes.

"It was Professor Snape!" Michelangelo's voice finally made her open her eyes, "Hermione saw him. He was cursing your broomstick!"

"He was muttering, and wouldn't take his eyes off you- signs that he was the one doing it." Hermione added.

"Rubbish." said Hagrid, "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"He was trying to get past the three-headed-dog on Halloween!" Michelangelo said, "It bit him. He's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped his teapot, "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Haven questioned, sitting up and readjusting Neville's arms so she'd be more comfortable.

"Yeah- he's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

He stopped himself.

"To guard the what?" Zacharias said suspiciously. She jumped hearing his voice, not having realized that he was standing right behind her, leaning against the wall.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid replied, "That's top secret, that is."

"But Professor Snape's trying to steal it!" Hermione argued.

"Rubbish," argued Hagrid, "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"But he tried to kill Alex!" cried Neville, his voice muffled by her arm. She leaned her head against his, wrapping an arm around him in comfort. She felt a little like she was comforting Sam from a nightmare, which reminded her of why she was so tired. Zacharias's hand came to rest on Neville's shoulder, more of a comforting gesture than Haven had excepted from him.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them!" said Hermione, "You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" protested Hagrid. "I don' know why Alex's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Nicholas Flamel?" Zacharias echoed softly.

Hagrid looked absolutely furious with himself.

* * *

 **D** **raco's POV**

Draco paced down the deserted corridor, his hands clenching and unclenching as if unsure of what they should do. Potter had nearly died today, and here he was still trading verbal insults with her every time they saw one another. If she'd died today, or had even gotten injured at all… he wasn't sure what he would have done. He was torn between marching up to her and apologizing on his knees or allowing it to continue how it was. He wanted her friendship back, but at the same time, she'd said so many awful things to him that the wasn't sure he could go back to being friends. He'd said some things, too, so who knew if she could ever even accept him?

So what should he do? She was a trouble magnet, he knew the type, so what if she was killed before he ever had a chance of reconciling with her? What if she refused his apologies? It's not like he could ever allow himself to actually beg, and that is probably what it would take.

"You're going to wear a hole into the stone if you keep doing that, you know."

He whirled around to see another boy, who he recognized as Blaise Zabini, a fellow Slytherin in his year. He didn't know much of Blaise, who seemed to be a bit of a loner.

"So what?" Draco bit back, annoyed.

Blaise shrugged, "Nothing. I was just making an observation, and I thought you could use someone to talk to."

"Have you been stalking me or something?" Draco asked.

Blaise smiled, shaking his head, "Not exactly stalking, no. You just stormed off in a huff, so I was curious, and thought you might need someone to vent to."

"Look, why should I even talk to you? What would I have to talk about?" Draco asked, on guard. What did this boy want?

"You're lonely." said Blaise. "After you had that falling out with her and her friends, you've changed. You only ever smiled around them."

"Do you get into everyone's personal business?" Draco asked, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He didn't like that Blaise might know things he didn't want known.

Blaise smiled. It had an effect that made him looked almost… _adorable._ "I suppose I do. Only if they're interesting."

"Great." Draco drawled, "I'm your free entertainment, then."

The other boy shrugged, looking down with the slightest touch of shame, "No, not exactly. I… well… you were…"

Blaise sighed, "You always seem so fake, around that group you've been spending time with since then. I don't… well, I don't like it, okay?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You don't… _like it."_

The other boy blew out a puff of air, a pout on his face, "No, I don't. Could you stop looking at me like that?"

Draco couldn't help it, he just started laughing. After several moments of continuing to pout, Blaise joined in.

"You're odd," Draco said after the laughter faded away. "Why do I always seem to find myself spending time with the odd ones?"

"Maybe it's because you're odd, too." Blaise replied.

"It is no such thing! I am completely _normal-_ stop laughing at me!" Draco protested as Blaise began giggling again. "It's rude to laugh at someone else."

Finally Draco sighed, giving up on trying to get the other boy to cease his giggles.

From that day forward, Draco somehow ended up becoming friends with Blaise Zabini.

* * *

 **Neville's such a mother hen. I don't know why I see him that way, I just do. That and he seems the type that isn't opposed to hugs. My kind of guy, you know? Because hugs are the best.**

 **Speaking of which, I give all of you many hugs! I'll see you next week!**


	21. Chapter 21: I Can't Do This On My Own

**Oh boy, aren't you lovely humans in for it this chapter. I've been planning Haven's scene since I first ever came up with this idea, and I think it turned out very well. I think that is one of my more favored parts of what has been written for this story so far.**

 **Also, Sam and Dean. Enough said.**

 **Good luck, and I own nothing still... though if I could own Neville I would be the happiest human alive.**

* * *

 **Chapter 21: I Can't Do This On My Own**

 **Dean's POV**

"DEAN!"

Sam's voice pierced through the fog and the blackness, awakening older brother instincts that surged to fight off the haze of pain. He tried clinging to consciousness, but the more he tried to fight it the harder it became, until he finally succumbed, thinking, _I'm sorry, Sam._

When he finally came to, he was lying on a bed more comfortable than any he'd slept on in ages. The linens smelled freshly washed, and felt _clean._ How long had it been since he'd slept in a bed this clean? Haven had always tried cleaning them to the best of her ability, but she'd never managed to erase all the years of stains and use, despite her many efforts.

 _Haven._

At her name, waves of emotions crashed over him that made his already-pounding head hurt worse. Groaning, he sat up, fighting against the dizzy spell that nearly made him fall back down on the bed.

"Dean! Thank God you're awake!" Sam's voice was quite loud and panicked. It echoed in his head rather painfully.

"Where- Where are we?" Dean asked, rubbing his forehead. Sam was at his side, unharmed it appeared.

"Some crazy people took us, I don't know why, but I don't think they're monsters and you were knocked out and you wouldn't wake up and I didn't know what to do and-"

"Sam, calm down, you're making my head hurt." Dean groaned, clutching at his head, "Is there any way out of here?"

"The door's locked, and they took all of our weapons! What are we going to do, Dean?" Sam asked. "Dad's going to be so worried."

"Is there any way to pick the lock?" Dean asked, leaning against the wall as he took in the room. It looked like a standard kid's room. There were two beds with blue comforters, both with nightstands that held lamps and a digital clock. There was a desk with many drawings hung over it, and a toybox. There was a closet to one side, as well as a door that probably led out into the house on the other. A shelf held a few nicknacks and various prized possessions you'd expect a little boy to have. On one shelf was a vase with a few wilting purple flowers.

There was also a window.

"Sam, the window. Can you open it?" Dean asked, trying to move but hissing in pain as he did so. He was still quite dizzy, and it was difficult to focus. The sun filtering in through the curtain hurt his eyes.

Sam opened the curtains, letting in more sunlight causing Dean to have to cover her eyes with a hand, "The window's been boarded up! I don't think I can get it open."

Both turned sharply when there was a knock at the door. Sam ran over to Dean, Dean grabbing him and holding him half behind him for protection.

"Can I come in?" called a male voice. Neither boy answered. The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened, a man peeking his head in. His hair was brown, his eyes a light brown. He smiled at them, slowly stepping in, revealing that he was holding two plates of pancakes and two glasses of juice. A pale blonde woman was behind him, with a hopeful smile and blue-green eyes.

"How's your head, Lucas?" the woman asked Dean in a gentle voice.

 _Lucas? What the hell?_

Dean glanced back at Sam, before letting out a stiff, "Fine, and it's not Lucas."

He was unsure of how he should proceed to best ensure Sam's safety. His mind scrambled for a plan, but none presented themselves. His hands clenched as a forbidden thought passed his mind.

 _Haven would know what to do. She'd find a way out._

The woman just smiled, "I'm glad you're feeling better. We brought you both pancakes and some juice."

The man set down the plates and glasses of juice on the desk. "If you boys need anything, knock on the door. I have to work, but you're mother will be home all day to check on you."

It took Dean a few seconds to take in what had been said, like he had to translate some language he barely knew. Slowly the sentence unraveled itself.

The man had said the woman was their mother? What? Though, if Dean squinted, this woman could almost be Mary.

"My mother is dead." Dean replied after a pause.

"Lucas! Don't say things like that." the man reprimanded. It took several long moments for Dean to realize the man meant him.

Dean couldn't help the next words, which came out in a slur, "That's… That's not my name."

"Stop being ridiculous. I have to go to work now, but I better not hear that you gave your mother any trouble, either of you." the man replied. He bent down and kissed his wife quickly, before leaving the room.

"Why don't you get some more sleep, Lucas?" the woman suggested softly, "Tell me if your head starts hurting really badly, I'll get you some medicine."

As soon as she left the room, Dean let out a groan, collapsing to the side on the bed. The room wouldn't stop spinning.

"Dean! Are you alright?!" Sam exclaimed, hands on Dean's arm.

"Quiet down. Just… just a headache. It's nothing, don't worry. We'll… find a way out." Dean replied, closing his eyes. "I'm just going… to rest a bit."

"Wait, Dean, are you okay? What should I do?" Sam cried, "You're acting weird, you're head was hurt really bad. I saw him knock you out, and I'm scared. Why are they acting like this? Dean? And how are we going to get out?"

The words came as a garbled mess to Dean, who, despite his best efforts, couldn't seem to understand what Sam was saying. His increasingly panicked tone only worsened Dean's pounding headache.

"Calm down." Dean said quietly.

"But they have us here, and we have no clue what they want or what they're going to do! And why are they calling you Lucas and saying the woman is our mother? Dean, I'm scared!" Sam exclaimed.

Dean blinked a few times, before slowly replying, "Dad will… come find us, if we can't get out."

Sam shook his body a little, causing Dean to have to bite his lip to keep from making a sound as pain shot through his head, "How do you know? What if he can't find us? What do we do then?"

"I don't…" Dean tried, fighting through the descending fog, "I can't… I can't… think."

Wide eyed, Sam replied, "Dean, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Dean's fog thickened. His head pounded and the world kept spinning, faster and faster and faster and faster. The smell of pancakes made him want to throw up. Dean curled in on himself, letting out a soft groan.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam cried, "What am I supposed to do? Dean, please!"

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

The beginning of December brought an even deeper chill to Hogwarts, one that Haven didn't much appreciate. The castle was drafty, with heating limited to the Great Hall and the Common Room. The classrooms and corridors were freezing cold.

It was nearing Christmas, and with that would come a break in which students would be allowed back home. However, Haven was unsure of the plans for how she would be getting home, as hers was a special case. She doubted any of the teachers knew anything, and since no one had come to her to tell her the plans, she'd have to go ask Professor Dumbledore himself.

The problem was that now that she was there, the gargoyles wouldn't move, she was freezing cold, and she had no clue what the password could possibly be. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Perhaps she should have asked Fred and George about it, but she hadn't really wanted to be escorted down here and then end up getting into some sort of trouble with them.

She got a weird feeling she was being watched as she tried to figure out what to do. She began pacing in a circle so that she could look around without whoever might be watching her knowing she might have been alerted.

No one was there, at least not that she could see.

Huffing, she turned back to the gargoyles to glare at them. She was surprised to find that they had moved aside and that Professor Dumbledore had descended the staircase.

"Ah, young Ms. Potter. What brings you here?" the Headmaster asked, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses (why half-moons? They would probably get in the way of vision improvement). A thought struck her that perhaps he had some sort of charm watching for visitors, and that is why she felt she was being watched.

"Well, sir, I wanted to ask about going home for Christmas. I heard that we're soon going to have to sign if we're going to stay here or not, and well… I want to know how I'm getting home, to my family." Haven asked.

The old man frowned, "You want to go home?"

She nodded, getting a bad feeling. That was a question.

"Well, my dear girl, why didn't you mention so sooner? International portkeys take a long time to be arranged, you see." Professor Dumbledore replied, "With this time frame, I'm afraid it will be simply impossible for you to return for the break."

Her entire body wilted, her hair falling forward to partially shield her face, "Oh… I didn't know."

She wrapped her arms around herself as if they would hold her together. Tears burned in her eyes, her throat beginning to feel uncomfortable from the suppressed sobs.

Professor Dumbledore looked concerned, giving her a sympathetic look, appearing as if he was about to say something, but she stopped him.

"Um, well… thank you, professor." with that, she turned and fled down the corridor, arms pulling tighter. Her fingernails began digging into her sides, the force of her will the only thing stopping her from breaking what little composure she had.

Her feet followed their own path back to the Common Room, then to the dorm. Unfortunately, she wasn't alone there either, so she pushed the tears back and pretended everything was normal for Hermione.

She curled up in her bed, trying to sleep. Everyone fell asleep around her as the hours passed by, but all she could do was stare straight ahead with half-dead eyes, hands clawing at her chest.

Haven couldn't stay in this room any longer. She got up, picking up a blanket and the compact mirror she had gotten from Sam and Dean for last Christmas without really paying attention to it. Mechanically, she made her way down the stairs, into the Common Room, which was completely empty.

She chose a seat before the fire, pulling the blanket around herself and hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the slowly dying fire.

Haven didn't know when the tears started, she just knew that they came silently, pouring down her face and onto her knees. Her hand holding the compact mirror went white from the tight grip she kept on it.

She didn't know if they were alive. She didn't know if they hated her. She didn't know if they had forgotten her. She didn't know if they had forgiven her. She didn't know!

Her _one_ chance to find answers was gone, all because she hadn't tried to make plans earlier. If only she had! Of course international travel took time to put together, even for wizards. How could she be so stupid about the one hope she'd had this entire time? Seeing Sam and Dean was the most important thing to her, how could she have waited and let her chance slip by? How could she say she cared about them? How could she even dare to miss them like she did, so much that it was tearing her apart?

Soundless sobs shook her entire frame and she curled further in, head ducking down to hide her shame from the fireplace. Her hands went to her chest, the one not holding the mirror clutching at her chest as if she could grab ahold of her heart and somehow stop the pain. She just wanted her brothers back. She didn't care about anything else. But she wouldn't get another chance for months, and she knew she couldn't bear waiting in agony for that long. She was sure it would kill her.

"Alex?"

The voice tore through the agonized silence. She couldn't bear to look up, to face those eyes. She closed her own eyes, hoping that he would just go away and leave her to her misery.

The couch shifted- he'd sat down next to her. She muttered something that may have been, 'go away'.

A hand rested on her shoulder, but she didn't look up.

"What's wrong?" Neville's voice was so soft, as if afraid she'd break into a million pieces.

She couldn't ignore that voice, the words tumbling out of their own accord between sobs, "I- _need_ them. And I- I- What if- What if they're- d- dead? What if they- hate me? I n-need Dean. I need him, I- need him, I- and it's- all my fault, I can- can't see them. I sh- sh- should have- I should have- and now I can't see them- and what if- what if they're ign- ignoring my letters? What if they- they need me? W- Without D- Dean, who am- I supposed to ta-talk to? We tell each o-other _ev-everything,_ and now he- he's gone and I hurt and wh- why won't they r- respond? I thought- at least S- Sam would and- I'm so- so stupid, and now- I can't see them and I need to _see_ them be- because what if they're dead and it's all my fault and I wasn't there and- an- and- and-"

Neville's arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight as she began shaking, unable to stop as more tears poured down her cheeks. It burned that Dean might be ignoring her uncaringly when she _needed_ her big brother so desperately.

"Sh… it'll be okay…" Neville soothed in that calm, velvet voice of his, his fingers running through her hair, "Calm down. Just breathe."

"I- I- I'm tr- try- trying." she replied, her quick, uncontrolled breaths making it hard for her to get the words out. "B- But- it h- hurts."

"I know, I know." Neville replied, the calm in the storm of emotion. "I know it's hard. I know it hurts. Sh… It'll all work out. They don't hate you, they're family. You don't have to worry about them. You've told me how good your father is at what he does, how good your brother is. They're not going to die. I know you're scared, and that you want to be with them. I _know._ But you're strong, and brave, and smart."

"N- Not brave, not w- without Dean." Haven protested. "I c- can't do this with- without them."

"Yes, you can. _You can._ You're going to be fine, and you're going to see them again." Neville's voice was so sure of itself. Water washed over her in a mist, and she could breathe again.

After a long moment of silence, in which she burrowed herself closer to Neville for warmth, he asked, "What are they like? Will you tell me about them?"

Haven wiped her nose on her sleeve, before answering, "They're… well, they're everything to me. I know I'm not related to them, but they're family."

"My dad… well, my dad is a superhero. He took me in when I was left on the street to defend myself. He taught me how to fight monsters. He's driven, more stubborn than a diamond. He lost his wife and effectively his life when Sam was a baby, in a fire caused by a monster. He's been hunting it ever since. He's the only person who's ever been anything like a father to me." her hands clenched as she remembered his reaction to the letter, "But… he's afraid of magic. When the letter came… I wasn't his daughter anymore. In the blink of an eye, I went from being loved almost as much as my brothers, from belonging somewhere, to being a monster. You see, we've hunted witches before, the kind that get their power from demons… and we didn't know any other kind existed. I became something to hunt."

Neville's arms tightened around her, his body tensing.

"Sam stood up for me, stopped dad from pulling the trigger. Dean was in shock, I think. Sam is intelligent, he loves books. Dean swears I corrupted him," at those words, she couldn't help the small upturning of her lips, "Sam is perceptive, and strong-willed. Despite being the youngest, he understands hunting better than either me or Dean. He understood the danger in it when all I saw was a story of heroes. He's… he's going to be an amazing man one day. I'd do anything to protect him, anything at all."

"Dean-well, Dean is my other half. He's one year older than me. He's strong, and he's the best big brother I could ever have had. He's reckless and stupid, but he's so brave and protective. He'd move mountains to save either me or Sam. He could do it, too. Just that stubborn. Without him, I might as well be walking around without my arms. We did everything together, including protecting Sam. We told each other everything. The only secret I ever kept was my real name, Alexandrite Potter, because to me it has always represented a little girl who was worth nothing, who couldn't be loved. It didn't matter anymore because I was Haven Winchester, and Haven Winchester was strong, she was brave, and she could do anything. She could be a hero."

Haven paused, "Without Dean, though, Haven is nothing. I don't know what to do without him. I just… I just want my big brother. I want to tell him all about Hogwarts, to tell him all about everything… but what if he hates me? Who… who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well… if you need to, Haven…" Neville paused, "You can tell me everything you would tell Dean until you see him again. I'm probably not the best option, but-"

She interrupted him by throwing her arms around him, nearly sending him flying off the couch, tears once more coming to her eyes as she buried her head into his chest. She didn't have to say anything, he understood her gratitude.

After a long silence, Haven finally whispered, "Will you stay here with me?"

Neville didn't say anything, readjusting himself to a more comfortable position on the couch. Haven curled up next to him, throwing the blanket around both of them to help keep them warm.

The next morning, the early risers woke up to find the adorable sight of the two first years curled up together on the couch, fast asleep.

* * *

 **And so starts the epic friendship I always envisioned for Haven and Neville. I love him so much.**

 **Thank you for reading, I have really looked forward to this chapter for a long time. If I made you cry I send you your favorite kind of cookies and a big hug. A really big hug.**

 **See you all next week!**


	22. Chapter 22: Family

**Heyo! This is a bit late, but I had a little trouble with Sam's POV. That, and I have school-y things I have to do sometimes. But now it's here, so hugs for all and stuff.**

 **So I've been working on cover art for this story as well. It actually doesn't suck as much as I thought it would so far. I just need to finish up the last few things, and it'll be done. Not sure when I'll have time or be in the mood to sit down and draw, however (and then I'll have to beg my sister to color it). I was just letting you know that something is in the works.**

 **Yeah, so enough of me, you've been waiting for the chapter long enough, haven't you?**

 **I own nothing at all, and now I invite you to enjoy chapter 22.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Family**

 **Sam's POV**

Sam was nearly ready to burst into tears, or scream, whatever came first. The situation was already bad enough, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong with Dean. He paced backwards and forwards through the room, trying to think. What could he do? How would they get out? Where was dad?

"Sam, calm down." Dean told him in a weary tone. Sam whirled around to face him.

"I'm trying to think." Sam replied, examining the room, hoping for something useful to appear.

He began going through drawers for something to occupy himself with, which were all filled with clothing and other things you'd expect of a young boy. None of it was going to help him.

Sam pulled out the drawer of the nightstand, finding it empty except for a piece of paper. He pulled it out, frowning when he read it.

 _In loving memory…_

Here it was split in the middle, showing two pictures of young boys, one a few years older than the other. Below the pictures were dates of birth… and death, which was the same day. November 7th.

 _Lucas C. Jackson_

 _Aiden T. Jackson_

The gears turned, and suddenly Sam understood.

"Dean, look at this." Sam said, showing Dean the funeral program. Dean sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead. He peered down at the paper, not seeming to be able to understand.

"Dean. They were calling you Lucas. I'll bet Lucas was their son, who died." Sam prompted, "They'd probably call me Aiden."

The older boy blinked a few times, a look of comprehension on his face, "So you're saying… that we're, what? The replacements for their kids? That's why they took us?"

"I think so. It'd make sense. We don't look way too different from them. Maybe grief made them crazy." Sam replied, feeling sudden sympathy for the man and woman. "Maybe if we reason with them, they'll let us go. Tell them dad would miss us, appeal to the grief a parent feels at the loss of a child."

Dean shook his head, before wincing as if the movement had hurt, "No, no, reasoning with them might not be the best idea. They're crazy. If what you say is true, they took two kids off the street to replace the kids they lost. Besides, they got mad when I said I wasn't Lucas, and that mom's dead. We don't know how they may react if we try."

"Right." Sam nodded, "Well, then what do we do?"

"We wait. We find a way out. And maybe we find some pills for this _stupid_ headache!" Dean replied.

Sam looked at the door, "... I could knock on the door, ask the woman for something-"

"No!" Dean exclaimed, before wincing. "No. I'll just… I don't want her in here."

"Why? I know she's crazy, but they don't look like they're going to hurt us, and if you can think clearly it'll be easier to get out of here." Sam reasoned.

"Just trust me, Sam. Don't ask them for anything. Anything at all." Dean replied in a tone that left no room for further argument. Sam reluctantly nodded, uncertain if it was the right course of action, but willing to follow his brother's words. Sam trusted him to know what he was talking about.

So they waited. Sam wandered the room, trying to find something to occupy his mind with as his mind wandered.

Finally the door opened, the woman peeking through. "Hey, boys. It's been awfully quiet in here. Do you need anything?"

Sam, acting on sudden impulse, nodded, "Yes, ma'am. I need to use the bathroom."

He looked back at Dean, who looked like he was about to protest, before thinking better of it. ' _Be careful'_ his eyes seemed to say.

Sam nodded once, before following the woman out of the room. He was taken down a hallway, the light blue walls covered in pictures of the family (which did heavily include the two boys on the funeral program). The bathroom was only a few steps down, next to what might have been some sort of closet.

The bathroom wasn't very useful, either. There was a small window, but Sam doubted he could fit through it, or even reach it.

Once done with his inspection of the room, he exited to where the woman was waiting and followed her quietly back to the bedroom, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could. He didn't know what information would be useful, so it would be best to collect anything and everything for future reference.

Before leaving, the woman informed them that dinner would be ready soon.

"Did you find anything?" Dean asked after a few moments of silence. Sam shook his head.

"No." he replied, "There was a window high up, but we wouldn't fit."

A long sigh escaped the older boy as he leaned back down on the bed, arms behind his head. Sam was unsure what to say, so he went over to the other bed, picking up a book he'd found and beginning to read. The task took his mind away from the constant worrying, allowing him a few moments to relax, and a chance to look back at the problem with fresh eyes.

Dinner was brought to them. Despite his caution, hunger won out this time, and Dean and Sam decided to eat something. It was a stew of some sort, with vegetables and meat and liberal amounts of herbs and spices.

Once that was done, the two decided to sleep.

The next morning they had barely woken up when the door opened, revealing two smiling figures. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

Sam blinked, startled. Thanksgiving? He supposed it was around that time, not that he ever really made much note of the holiday.

Sam muttered something that might have been somewhat like 'uh… happy Thanksgiving?'. Dean said nothing, glaring at them and shooting Sam glances, obviously uncomfortable with the distance between them.

"I'm about to start cooking." said the woman, "Is there anything you two would like made this year? Your dad has to go to the store for a few last minute things, anyway, so whatever you want I'll make. A pie, maybe? Do you want potato salad again, Aiden? You said last year that you liked it."

Sam shrugged, taken aback by the questions. He wasn't sure what he should do, and Dean appeared to be at just as much of a loss as he. Neither boy reacted as the male and female gave them hugs before leaving the room to go get prepared for Thanksgiving dinner.

There was a lot of sitting around and doing nothing for the next hours. Sam occupied himself with another book, trying to ignore the tempting smells of cooking food that hovered in the air.

Eventually, the door opened again. The man was there, bringing in two chairs, and the woman behind him bringing a t.v. and the cords for it. As the woman left again, the man began setting up the t.v. in the room.

"We thought we'd have dinner in here, since you're still recovering, Lucas." the man said as he finished plugging in the t.v. "How does that sound?"

"Uh… fine?" Dean replied slowly, having been napping before the man and woman had entered. Sam suspected he'd stayed up all the previous night to make sure nothing happened while Sam had been sleeping.

The woman returned, bring two trays of food and presenting them to Sam and Dean, before leaving again to get the rest of the food and drinks.

Sam watched somewhat wide-eyed as suddenly he ended up in a scene from something he'd never thought he'd experience. The t.v. was turned on, each of them digging into the food (how could he not? He'd been smelling it for hours, he was going to eat it). He felt almost like he'd been dropped into the middle of a normal family. He knew it wasn't the case, he knew he and Dean had been kidnapped and the man and woman were crazy, using them to replace the children they'd lost. But it felt normal. It was odd that he felt that, this was anything but normal. However, he couldn't really help it. He watched the man and woman laugh and talk, eating happily and commenting on the football game that played on the television. Sam payed no mind to it, to focused on his food and the sheer normalcy of everything. It felt like a regular family dinner.

After everyone was finished eating, Sam found himself playing card games with the man and woman, Dean nervously watching from the side, rubbing his head every now and then as if trying to massage away a headache.

It was late when the man and woman left the room with cheerful goodnights. Sam and Dean were silent for several long minutes, before Sam finally broke the silence.

"Dean?"

The other boy glanced over to Sam in the dim light, "What?"

Sam took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before voicing what had been on his mind for the last hour. "What was mom like?"

Dean was silent for so long that Sam thought he wouldn't answer him.

It came a surprise when he finally heard Dean's soft voice, "Mom was… supermom. If I close my eyes, I can still remember what she smelled like."

Sam, his full attention on his brother, leaned forward unconsciously and asked in a hushed tone, "What did she smell like?"

A small smile crept onto Dean's face, "Apple pie."

Dean was silent for several moments before he continued again, in a far away voice, "She had the best hugs when you were having a bad day. I loved listening to her voice whenever she sang. She liked bright colors and sunshine. She was the prettiest mom in the entire world."

Sam soaked in Dean's words, adding Dean's details to the mental picture of his mother Sam had in his head. He didn't want to miss a single word, knowing this might be the only time Dean ever shares anything about their mother. The word 'mom' was just not one you brought up in the Winchester household, just like the word 'Haven' currently.

Maybe that was why Dean was even willing to share at all, because the taboo had shifted. That, or Dean was just as enraptured as Sam in the small taste of a normal life they'd received, and was remembering a time when that had been his everyday life. Peaceful. Normal.

Sam envied him for that. For having had an experience of normal, as short as it had been. Sam's first months on this world had been his only normal ones- all he ever remembered was Hunting and constant travel, and always the fear that this time dad wouldn't come back. That something would happen to Dean. Or Haven, the sister he'd had for almost as long as his memory stretched. The sister that was lost, the sister that he was being told to forget yet couldn't. How could he ever forget her? She was family.

Family. Sam rolled over, away from Dean. His family really was a mess, wasn't it? They hadn't been right since their mom had died. And now Haven was gone too, and the family was more fragile than ever. Would it ever be the same?

He just wanted his family all together, normal, safe, and happy. It was something the Winchesters had never been in his remembered life and would never be again, and he hated knowing that. He hated seeing his family being torn apart, always knowing that at any moment, he could lose them all forever.

Would he ever see Haven again? Or dad? Maybe their dad was already dead, which is why he hadn't found them yet.

Sam wasn't sure how long he lay awake, staring at the dim ceiling absently as his thoughts swirled in circles. He hated it all, and the worst part was there was no way out. He couldn't leave his family to their fate alone.

Eventually, long after Dean had fallen asleep, Sam curled up, falling into a fitful slumber, a constant worry gnawing at his mind and heart.

 _Family._

* * *

 **Zacharias's POV**

When Zacharias had woken up that morning, this was hardly what he'd expected. He was unsure of what exactly had happened, but the outcome was easy enough to follow. Neville had won. That much was clear: simple observation made it obvious that _something_ had happened, and now Neville and Alexandrite were basically inseparable.

Now, he was unsure how to feel about this. Zacharias hadn't even known Neville was a competitor, much less in the lead. It was a good strategy, if it had been strategy at all.

It wasn't like Zacharias could even be angry at the other boy- after all, who could be mad at him for long? He'd say a few nice words and anger melted away. It just wasn't fair. Then you add in the change in Alexandrite. She seemed slightly more at ease. Zacharias hadn't been so blind as to not notice something was wrong with her, but whatever Neville had done managed to help her and score his own victory in one fell swoop.

Zacharias almost wanted to laugh. The outcome was nothing like he'd ever envisioned it, especially since his only contender had been Draco, who had been knocked out of the competition soon after it had started due to unlucky circumstance.

Letters arrived during breakfast a few mornings later, an owl flying straight to Neville, who eagerly grabbed for the letter attached. He almost ripped the letter apart in excitement, quickly scanning the words before looking up to Alexandrite.

"I've got permission! Grandmother says you can come, so you're coming home with me for Christmas." Neville informed her in an excited tone.

Zacharias, bewildered, looked to Alexandrite. She seemed amused, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

"Was that a question?" she asked wryly.

Neville appeared to consider the inquiry, before shaking his head with a wide smile on his face, "No."

"Aren't you going home to your family for Christmas?" Michelangelo asked the girl curiously. It was as if someone had flicked a switch- suddenly her face fell, head drooping down and the amusement vanishing as if it had never existed. Neville automatically pulled an arm around her, sending a look of warning at Michelangelo.

This situation just kept getting more and more interesting. Amber eyes darted between the pair, trying to deduce what exactly had happened. Something to do with her family? Zacharias didn't know much about them, only that she adored her brothers and that they were hunters. Hunters didn't have a very good reputation among wizards, as they were known to shoot first and ask questions later if they caught so much as a whiff of magic. Granted, there were some that weren't like that, but the deeds of the few created a reputation for the many. With the few little clues he had, Zacharias was inclined to believe that her home life wasn't exactly the best of situations, but he decided he should keep an open mind until he learned more. After all, he could be missing a vital piece of the puzzle that would make the entire situation clear to him.

Finally, Alexandrite looked up to face them, "Uh, no. I'm not going home."

Her voice caught the slightest bit on the last word. Zacharias frowned.

With that, Neville changed the subject with a cheer in his voice that rang out as forced in Zacharias's ears. "For Christmas, I'm going to host a little party. Do you three want to come? I'll send out formal invitations in a few days, I just wanted to go ahead and ask."

Neville, host a party? The kind boy didn't seem the party type. There must be more to this. Zacharias's eyes flicked to Alexandrite, a contemplation expression on his face.

"Of course I want to come!" Michelangelo answered.

Zacharias shrugged, "Someone with intelligence needs to come along to keep you all in line."

Besides, going to the party might make a few things clearer to him. Not that he wouldn't go anyway, just to make sure they didn't blow up the entire continent or something.

"Don't act like you don't want to come," Alexandrite said with a small smile, "We all know that what you just said was Zacharias-speak for: 'Yes, I really, really, want to come but I have to act like I don't for silly pride reasons.'"

Zacharias huffed, crossing his arms, "Your skills at misinterpretation astound me."

"Well, I'll have to ask my parents first, but that does sound rather nice." Hermione interrupted before Alexandrite could offer a retort.

Neville smiled, "Great! This will be fun, won't it, Alex?"

His smile was infectious. Zacharias smiled himself, before quickly hiding the evidence and resuming his normal expression.

"Of course it'll be fun," the raven-haired girl replied, a small smile forming on her own face, "I mean, I'll be there. Oh, and I suppose Michelangelo's sort of fun, too."

The others laughed.

"I'm not sure what you define as fun, but to me, you are hardly fun. More like exhausting." Zacharias scoffed.

"Who's to say I can't be both?" the girl replied with a quirk of her eyebrows.

"Maybe someone else could be. Not you." the amber eyed boy replied easily.

Alexandrite scoffed, "That's because your idea of fun is flawed."

"Look who's talking! Your idea of fun is to stab people!" Zacharias argued, recalling the ghost incident with no small amount of humor.

"Some people need to be stabbed. Besides, I'd much rather stab monsters, thank you. It's a great stress reliever, you should try it. You look like you could use some stress relief." the girl informed him, keeping a straight face in spite of the laughter in her eyes.

Indignantly, he cried in a voice far more high pitched than he wanted, " _I_ need stress relief?! I'm not stressed! _You_ need stress relief!"

Alexandrite smiled, "Hence, why I stab things."

Zacharias calmed at her smile, his goal reached. She'd helped him before, it only made sense for him to make an effort now (funnily enough, in a very similar manner to what she herself had used). She certainly seemed to have improved her mood, then again, Neville was mostly to thank for that. Zacharias glanced at the boy in question. Perhaps he should inform the boy of his gratitude.

He shook his head at his thoughts.

 _Perhaps I'm getting too soft._

* * *

 **In case you people were wondering, what Neville 'won' was Haven's absolute loyalty and friendship. Basically, Neville has filled the position of bestie buddie. Even I don't totally understand what the heck's going on with that, it just sorta happened.**

 **I don't know why I keep doing Zacharias's POV. It's different than a lot of the others, I guess. I have fun writing him, at least, though Neville's pretty cool, too.**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope to see you again soon with the next chapter (which, if it turns out right, is going to be lots of fun...)**


	23. Chapter 23: Flaw

**It's official. My muses hate me. I took forever to get myself to write this, and even then I had to skip around, writing a little at a time. Well, at least it's done, even if it's shorter than my recent chapters.**

 **Thank you all for the continued support! You guys are great and I love you.**

 **So I'll let you read, knowing that I still own absolutely nothing (even though I'd give almost anything to own Neville)**

* * *

 **Chapter 23: Flaw**

Longbottom Manor was a comfortable, spacious home. While it was obvious the family had wealth, they did not make their home too extravagant and shove that wealth in the face of their guests. Haven had been given a guest bedroom that had it's very own bathroom. The bed was the biggest she'd ever slept in, and it was certainly comfortable. There was a fireplace in there to keep it warm on the cold nights.

Neville's grandmother was a stern woman, but she had taken a definite liking to Haven. In return, Haven admired many things about her, even if she disliked how the woman spoke to Neville, as if he was some sort of disappointment.

Haven and Neville spent the first few days of break in the gardens, Neville telling her all about them and showing her how to care for them. It might not have been the most interesting subject in the world, but how Neville spoke of plants made it interesting. She could tell that the garden was Neville's pride and joy, and his excitement was contagious.

She found it even more fun when she managed to get Neville to explore the grounds of his home with her. Having lived there all his life, he knew all the best hiding spots. He'd even built himself a nice little hangout spot on a small island in the middle of a stream. It wasn't really even an island, more of a build-up of sand that could fit a worn old sofa, a few other chairs, a fire pit, and a crate to keep things in. There was also a tarp that could be set up to protect everything from rain. Neville and Haven spent one afternoon there playing cards, the crate acting as their table. Neville wasn't half bad at most of the games once Haven had taught them to him. He couldn't match her yet, but she'd also spent hours and hours playing cards with Dean and Sam when there was nothing else to do.

Haven had to hand it to him- he was really good at taking her mind off her family. Despite his efforts, she couldn't help but wish and wonder. She was starting to get nightmares almost daily, each scaring her more than the last. Every time, Neville would listen to her worries, give her a hug and tell her it would all be fine, no matter how late at night it was.

He really was the best friend she could have ever asked for.

"Haven?"

She looked up, having been staring off into the distance, stewing over her thoughts. "Huh?"

Neville leaned forward towards her, even though they were alone, "Do you think that Professor Snape is really after whatever Fluffy is guarding?"

"Honestly?" Haven replied, leaning back, her legs crossing, "Not really. I mean, I know all the evidence points that way, but it just seems too easy. We're going into this thinking it's a regular old salt-and-burn, when in reality it is something much nastier. I'm probably just being silly, I know he was trying to kill me. I'm not really sure if I care too much that someone wants to steal what Fluffy is guarding, if anyone does. Unless it's something that will cause problems, why not let them steal it? Even if it is valuable."

"Flamel wouldn't have intrusted it to Dumbledore unless it was something important. Valuables could be kept at Gringotts. Whatever this is needs the protection of the most powerful wizard of our age. It's going to be more than something really valuable. It's going to be dangerous. It's going to be something that people will want to fight over." Neville paused, "Then again, I could be wrong."

Haven shook her head, "No, you have a point," she reached over, tapping him on the top of his head, "Don't doubt yourself so much. Of course it's going to be something dangerous and important. I know. I'd just really rather it wasn't. It's funny- I come here and suddenly all these weird things happen. I swear it's a Winchester trait to attract disasters and chaos wherever we go. Just take the troll. I'm pretty sure that hasn't ever happened before. I imagine Hogwarts was a peaceful place, once. Well, the next six years should be fun, no?"

Neville grinned, replying in a dry tone, "Just my luck, to be in the same year as you, then, huh?"

Then he ducked his head in embarrassment, cheeks a bright pink through his hair. Haven giggled at him as he continued to stare at his lap.

"You have amazing luck, this is the year that will have all the fun!" Haven replied, "Chaos is only entertaining when you have friends with you."

Neville slowly lifted his head, a smile on his face as the pink slowly faded.

"But this is a nice place you have here." Haven commented, motioning to the little island he had set up, "I wish I could've made something like this with my brothers. I could stay here all day, and probably spend the night on the couch."

"You'd probably want to bring a blanket if you do that." Neville informed her, "You'd get really cold at night, especially in winter. I would know."

She laughed, "Maybe we should do it. Then again, probably not. I don't want to become a human popsicle."

They sat in a comfortable silence for several long minutes, before Neville said, "You know, everyone in our generation had bets on what House you'd end up in. I know for a fact that Draco lost a considerable amount of money to Fred and George. He thought you'd be in Slytherin, see. People were divided on whether you'd be a beacon of light in the same house as your parents, or a second dark lord in Slytherin."

Haven raised an eyebrow, examining a leaf that had fallen on the crate in front of her. "What did you bet on?"

Neville let out a little laugh, "I didn't bet at all. I figured you'd be Gryffindor, though, but I wasn't willing to lose money over it. Not like I really saw many people my age ever. Grandmother didn't like me spending much time with other kids around our age. She didn't want me to embarrass our family or anything, since we thought for the longest time I'd end up a Squib."

"Squib?" Haven asked, anger beginning to simmer at the idea of Neville being an embarrassment to anyone. The longer she spent here, the more she came to realize that his self-confidence stemmed from his home life. She was currently in the process of coming up with a plan to remedy this, like she had with Fred and George.

"A person born into a magical family without an ounce of magic themselves. It's disgraceful to have one in most pureblood families. They're generally kept shut up away from society." Neville explained.

She sat bolt upright, her fist slamming on the chair beside her as her simmering fury exploded, "Why?! That's ridiculous! They were born into the society, but just because they have the bad luck to be born without magic, they're shunned? That's- that's-that's just-! Ugh!"

Neville shrugged indifferently, his tone quite reasonable, "That's just the way things are. People without magic or with relatives without magic are treated like they are lesser. Not by everyone, but by most."

"I don't care if that's the way things are, it's _cruel!_ How could anyone just shut up a kid because they don't have magic! What if that had happened to you?" Haven yelled. The whole idea was made worse because it could have easily been Neville- sweet, quiet, amazing Neville- who would be shoved aside like trash. Abandoned.

Maybe that was why she hated the idea so much.

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

"I'm really starting to hate these gala's." Draco muttered, taking a sip of the red punch in the glass he was nursing. Blaise stood next to him, right beside the punchbowl, eyes darting around the room as per usual. Draco was of the opinion that the boy would only stop people-watching when he died. Even then, he'd probably be eavesdropping on those that attended his funeral. Draco would bet on the lives of his future children that Blaise would be able to tell you at least ten bits of gossip that those he'd overheard would hate to get out.

A small smile appeared on Blaise's face, "Join the club. Though they do provide quite interesting bits of information every now and again."

Draco repressed a snort, adjusting his spotless periwinkle dress robes. The clothing was uncomfortable, but at least it was warm. Blaise was similarly attired, except in wine red.

"Stalker." Draco murmured. Blaise hadn't heard the whispered word, raising his own glass of punch in Draco's direction.

"To the socially awkward."

"I will not toast to that." Draco informed him with a glare, "Because I am not socially awkward. I just tire of meaningless conversation. _You_ are the socially awkward one."

Blaise smiled, bring his glass to his lips, "And yet you always hide with me at the punch bowl."

"I'm not hiding." Draco argued, "I'm keeping you company. There's a difference. A large difference."

"Whatever you say, Draco." the other boy replied in a voice that was much too sweet for Draco's liking. He restrained a huff, instead turning his attention to the room. This particular gala had been hosted by the Greengrass family. All around were purebloods hailing from dark or neutral families, chatting to one another as soft music floated through the room. His parents were chatting with the Parkinsons. Pansy had decided he was being too boring an hour ago, thankfully leaving him and Blaise to be anti-social by the punch bowl.

Draco sighed, watching the dancers float around in the middle of the ballroom. He was lucky that his father hadn't much noticed his anti-social behaviour. After to introducing him to some of the people there, his father had left him to his own devices and seemed not to care that he was not strengthening alliances (Draco didn't really count Blaise). That would probably change at some point, especially when he grew older. He'd be required to dance and to mingle.

"So, have you heard anything interesting yet?" Draco asked in a bored tone. If the boy were normal, he would have heard anything Blaise had (they were standing next to one another, after all), but the other boy had very sharp hearing and liked to listen to meaningless conversation to pick up the hidden interesting bits. He was much more persistent than Draco was in that.

Blaise smirked, "A bit, yeah."

"Do you mind sharing?" Draco asked, curious.

"I'm afraid you couldn't afford the fee." Blaise replied easily, downing the rest of the punch in his glass. "I'm not in the habit of sharing information for free, after all."

Draco raised his eyebrows, "I come from one of the richest families in the area. I'm pretty sure I could afford it, if I had the mind to pay."

Blaise didn't look up, staring at the ground, "Money isn't something I need or desire."

"True." Draco replied, "I suppose I can find something else to entertain me."

"Or you could just listen for yourself." Blaise muttered in reply, loud enough for Draco to hear.

"That would make me you, and I am not in the habit of stalking people in my free time." Draco retorted, "Exactly how long did you stalk me before actually speaking to me?"

Blaise's face went bright red as he stuttered, "I didn't stalk- I… well- I wasn't exactly- I wasn't stalking… _you_."

"... Do I even want to know?"

* * *

 **Zacharias's POV**

Zacharias glared in the direction of the punchbowl, standing up with his back to one wall so he could have a clear view of the rest of the room. He would have claimed the punchbowl as his own hiding spot, had that _Malfoy_ not taken it, him and his little friend. Zacharias had absolutely no desire to interact with the boy or deal with the mess that came with him. He'd leave Malfoy to Longbottom, who was obviously the only one capable of dealing with him, barring the Slytherin boy standing next to him, Blaise Zabini.

The amber eyed boy leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention to the Zabini boy. There was something about him, something very familiar. He recalled seeing the boy often, out of the corner of his eye, barely noticeable. Every time Zacharias had tried to get a closer look the boy just melted out of sight.

He shook his head, taking a sip of punch. Yet another mystery for him to solve, just wonderful. Who would have known going to Hogwarts would make life so complicated?

"Well, at least I won't be bored." he murmured to himself, raising his glass to his lips.

* * *

 **If you couldn't tell, I have some big plans for Blaise. He's fun. And a stalker. And someone to keep our lonely Draco company at galas. And another Slytherin to balance out the absurd amount of Gryffindor heroics we have going on (I am also looking at Dean. Just saying).**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24: I've Only Got Problems

**This was so hard to write. I apologize for the lateness, but I seriously couldn't write it until yesterday. Instead, my muse was fixated on this new original story I created on a whim. It's suddenly pretty awesome, and I have a few new all-time favorite characters out of every character I've ever written.**

 **Eventually, I pulled myself away from creating characters and writing in the POV of one of those said favorite characters. I grit my teeth, looked at all my notes, and listened to this story's playlist, and forced myself to the conversation of this story with my friends and sister. And it worked! My muse returned to the story I've written the most for of anything.**

 **It's short, yes. But I'm proud, especially because it turned out so good despite the difficulties. I'm not completely happy with Sam's POV, but Neville's... I really liked how it came out.**

 **I'll stop talking to you about the story, cause you probably want to read it... alright, I own nothing. I promise... Not even Neville. *makes sad face and goes to cry alone in a corner***

* * *

 **Chapter 24: I've Only Got Problems, And No Solutions**

 **Sam's POV**

Sam collapsed onto the bed, grimacing at the uncomfortable feel to it.

 _Back to crappy motels and apartments._ Sam thought, rolling over with the hopes that it would become more comfortable. The comfortable bed he'd had when kidnapped had spoiled his back.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked, having noticed his wiggling.

Sam sighed, "The bed. It's uncomfortable."

"They're always uncomfortable." Dean replied. "You should be used to it by now."

"Yeah." the younger replied, his body going still. It was good to be back with Dad, away from the crazy couple who'd taken them, but…

 _But nothing. Everything's fine. Completely great._

He buried his face in his pillow, remembering how they'd escaped. They must have left the door unlocked, because when Sam tried it, desperate to find some way out, it just glided open, he'd barely had to turn the handle at all. Dean had been of little help in planning their escape, irritable and with a constant headache the entire day. It had been pitch dark, the only time they might get out without the couple knowing. Sam hadn't known what else to do, but he was consumed by the need to get out, right then and there.

And, miraculously, they'd left the door unlocked. It was a stupid mistake, but Sam wouldn't criticize too much. Maybe it had been left unlocked on purpose, like the two had taken pity on the boys they'd kidnapped.

Something about it bothered Sam. The pair hadn't seemed like they'd be so careless. Something about how the door had responded was… weird. He was probably imagining things, but it had almost jumped open on it's own.

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Of course he was. He'd just been panicking and wasn't thinking straight.

He took a deep breath. That was all it was.

* * *

 **Neville's POV**

The Manor was flurry of activity in the day before his party. His grandmother seemed excited at the idea of him hosting a party, and was determined that it would be a success. Maybe she was going overboard with the food and decorations, but as Haven seemed happy to be involved in the preparations, he didn't mind.

He'd never really thought he'd be throwing any parties for a group of friends. It really was amazing how Haven and their other friends had changed his outlook on things. It had only been a few months in which he'd known them, yet it felt so much longer. It was almost as if he was looking at his old life here from the eyes of someone else, someone different.

Sometimes he'd stay up late at night, marveling in the fact that he had friends, amazing friends who could brighten any day with their usual humor and mischief. Friends who were so intelligent, so talented, had the world before their feet… and they befriended him, who would never amount to much. He didn't know why they had stayed by his side, but he was so very grateful they had. Maybe, with such figures as his friends, he could be something more. He was under no illusions, he'd never be anything like them, but with them at his side he might actually be _something,_ which was better than the nothing that for so long had been all he could look forward to.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He could think on this later. Right now, he had a party to make a success, as a thank-you to his new friends, and a way to take Haven's mind off the family she had been cut off from.

Neville smiled. Even without knowing it, his friends would be helping him help Haven. They didn't even have to do anything but be there, be themselves.

"Come on, Neville, they'll be here any minute!" Haven called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hurried to the fireplace, where the guests would be arriving, Haven right beside him.

The only thing Neville wished for now was that Draco could come, too. Neville hadn't stopped talking to the other boy, the one thing he couldn't tell Haven right now. Maybe later, if the two ever made up, an outcome he still hoped would come to pass.

First to arrive was Hermione with her parents.

Haven marched forward, pulling Neville by the hand with her, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. My name is Hav-… ah, well, Alex, Hermione would have told you. It is a pleasure to meet the both of you at last."

Neville could only watch with wonder as Haven continued to chat with the two adults, easily charming them. He could never chat with strangers so easily.

Finally, as they were about to leave, Neville thanked them for allowing Hermione to come. He didn't possess anywhere near the same amount of charisma. He supposed it came from a childhood spent in isolation, not that he thought any form of himself ever could pull of the effortless charm Haven could channel.

Hermione waited with them for the next person to arrive, who turned out to be Zacharias. He came unaccompanied. Shortly after him came Michelangelo with his mother, who seemed amused at their nickname for him. The good natured woman began speaking with his Grandmother, leaving the children to begin a conversation of their own.

"I found him." Zacharias hissed to them when the adults were suitably distracted.

Confused, Neville asked, "Who?"

"Nicholas Flamel." he glanced at the adults again. Immediately, everyone gathered closely around him to hear his findings. They were all eager to know what could be hidden in the school, what Snape could possibly want.

"I _knew_ the name seemed familiar." Zacharias continued, "He's an alchemist, and he worked with Dumbledore for a time."

"Alchemist…" Neville trailed off. That seemed very familiar, an alchemist named Nicholas Flamel… All at once it came to him, a small gasp escaping his mouth. He looked up, meeting Zacharias's eyes.

"No." Neville replied, no longer paying attention to the others, "You aren't suggesting- It's not… That's just-"

Zacharias met his gaze evenly, "Insane? Maybe, but we were told Nicholas Flamel, and that is the number one thing he's known for."

"Wait, what?" Michelangelo interrupted, glancing back and forth from each one of them as if he was unsure of who he should be asking for an answer from, "What are you talking about? What is he known for?"

Zacharias huffed, "The _Philosopher's Stone,_ obviously."

"Um, what?"

"Seriously, do you people know _anything?"_ Zacharias replied, the picture of a boy who thought himself surrounded by idiots, "He created the Philosopher's Stone, which turns metals into gold and produces the elixir of life."

"I hope you'll forgive us simpletons for not knowing this," Haven said, "but what is the elixir of life?"

Amber eyes glared at her, but there was no real malice in them, only a playful annoyance, "The elixir of life is a substance that prolongs someone's life, enabling them to live however long they like, provided they aren't stabbed to death."

Neville watched as the words sunk in for the three who had been raised muggle. Haven went white.

The raven haired girl clenched her fists, saying quietly, "So what you mean is an object exists in this world that can be used by… _anyone,_ to effectively make the world their plaything? And they put this highly desirable object… _in a school._ Where students can get hurt by simply being bystanders. If anyone ever found out it was here-"

"Chaos." Neville finished for her. "Even Dumbledore might not be able to control it."

"And if we, _students,_ found out it was here, how many others have?" Hermione added, "Adults who are better at getting information. All they'd have to do is talk to Hagrid, like we did. If they were careful, it would be _easy."_

"So what do we do?" Michelangelo asked them, for once his humorous face gravely serious. There was a long silence, before it was finally interrupted.

"Nothing." Zacharias said, "We do nothing."

Michelangelo's voice got louder as he snapped, "We can't just stand by and _let_ people get-"

"Be quiet!" Zacharias hissed, glancing at the adults to ensure they were still occupied in their own discussion, "We can do nothing that can't already be done by Dumbledore. We do not have the power or means to do anything."

Hermione considered this for a moment, before adding, "I suppose Professor Dumbledore would have thought of this, just as we have. He's a brilliant man, after all. He probably has a plan in place, just in case anyone finds out. He'd know all of this better than we do, after all."

"No man is infallible." Haven commented softly, a contemplative look on her face, "Not even Dumbledore. But Zacharias is right."

"But Snape was trying to kill you, and you weren't even in the way! How many others could be after the Stone, just as willing to kill every student here?" Michelangelo hissed, "We can't just _stand back_ and _watch_ as people die for simply being here, when we know what's going on. Dumbledore might not suspect his own staff, and he would have probably told all of the staff if he told Hagrid-"

"And what do you expect us to do?" Zacharias demanded, "Confront him and die, so no one knows that he's after it? What would that solve? Stop channeling that Gryffindor stupidity and actually use your _brain!_ We are _first-years,_ talking about stopping a _grown man,_ who has _shown_ he has no objection to killing children."

Michelangelo went quiet.

"But…" Hermione whispered, "We can't just stand aside and allow him to hurt others…"

"We don't." Haven replied decisively. Everyone turned to her, her voice having the sort of tone that commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

"We watch. We wait." Haven continued, firm in her idea, "We gather evidence that he is behind this, and give it to someone who can do something about it. After all, we have no proof that Snape is after the Stone. There could be other parties involved. We don't know enough, so we find out so that when the time comes we can give all of the information we have to someone who can use it to stop him. There is nothing else we can do."

Everyone was absolutely silent as Michelangelo's mother left. Neville was unsure of how to improve their moods. His party was already going south, and it had barely started.

"Come on. It's a party." Neville said, attempting a smile, "We can worry about the Stone later. For now we should have fun."

Haven nodded, "Can't let my hard work go to waste, after all."

As the others began talking of better things, Neville sent a grateful look towards Haven. Maybe it wouldn't be a disaster.

"Does anyone want drinks?" Neville asked, taking on his role of a host with a deep breath and a smile.

* * *

 **I'm sorry there wasn't more of it, really. But it's something, right?...**

 **Okay, to hold you over, how about I give you the first paragraph of that new story I was talking about earlier? That'll make you happy, right? Right?**

 **Well, I'll try it:**

 ** _He hated everything. Everything. Every. Single. Solitary. Thing. This entire day sucked. All of these stupid human beings who couldn't tell an axe from a slice of cake sucked._**

 **Happy now? Too bad if you aren't. I got nothing else for you, except for hugs and love and thanks for reading my story and giving me so much support (you guys are awesome and I am sorry I couldn't give you more... because you've helped me so much that I feel sucky about not having more for you)**


	25. Chapter 25: Living in a Dream

**Alright, we're starting to get back to our normal groove of things, so yay! This is a pretty important chapter, at least in my mind, so cool things. Also ties into the title of the story.**

 **Thank you all for the continued support, I love you all and hand out big hugs. Just think: you are all helping someone become a better writer so she can one day write you all books that will be immensely proud of. It's kind of cool.**

 **I own nothing, so it's time for you lovelies to read!**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Living In A Dream**

"Haven, Haven! Wake up! It's Christmas!" Neville hissed, gently shaking her awake. She sat up, shaking away sleep.

"Goodmorning, Neville," Haven yawned, stretching her arms. "Merry Christmas."

The boy smiled at her, the picture of an excited youth. Soon he'd dragged her out to the main sitting room, where a pile of presents awaited them. Quickly, they were separated out according to who they were addressed to.

Haven's smile was short lived when she realized one thing- of all the names of those who'd sent her gifts, she saw no sign of Sam, or Dean, or her dad. It felt like a cold knife to her heart as it sunk it that this was the first Christmas she'd spend without them since becoming Haven Winchester, the first Christmas where she got nothing from them.

Had they opened the presents she'd sent? The books, the pictures she'd taken since coming here, the candies, the curiosities? Had they thrown them out, refusing to remember her? Or, worse, had her presents been delivered to three dead bodies who couldn't enjoy them?

Neville was by her side in an instant, knowing as soon as the smile faded what was wrong. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, handing her a warm cup.

"Let's start opening them, okay?" Neville suggested, "It will all be alright, you'll see. Here, this one's from Hermione."

With numb hands she began opening them, hardly paying any attention to what she was doing. The only time she paid any attention was when Neville opened the herbology book she'd found for him, as well as a journal where she'd recorded the various uses of several plants used in Hunting and all the information she could gather about them.

She spent the rest of the break in relative silence, the ache of missing her brothers impossible to ignore any longer. She found herself looking forward to the return of school, of classes, of her busy schedule. It would take her mind off of things, as she'd be too busy and tired to really think about it.

Thankfully, their return didn't take long to occur. Being back allowed her to push aside her fears and worries, focusing instead on classes and the Stone.

The second day back for term was the day when Haven realized that they'd need to call in for backup. There was only so much a handful of first year Gryffindors with the addition of a Hufflepuff could do in the way of watching the teacher notorious for his dislike of anything not Slytherin, especially when it's name was Haven Winchester or Neville Longbottom.

"Guys." she said at breakfast the next morning, "We need help, so we need to to tell someone. And I know who we should tell."

"Wait, stop." Michelangelo replied, "Should we really bring other people into it? Too many people, and we might be noticeable. Someone might let something slip."

"Not who I have in mind," Haven replied, "Face it, we won't be able to watch without being noticed, because our being there at odd hours is out of character… but…"

"Who do you have in mind?" asked Neville curiously.

She smiled as the pair walked in, "The twins."

"But they're always suspicious! That'll only bring more attention to what we're trying to do!" Hermione replied.

"Exactly. They're _always_ suspicious, so them being suspicious- like they normally are- isn't, well, suspicious. Everyone expects them to be planning pranks and getting up to something, so when they are they won't expect more from it. They've pranked the Professor numerous times this year. They always seem to know where everyone is, and they are good at sticking their noses places that they don't belong." Haven explained. As soon as she concluded, the twins took their spots on Haven's left side.

"She's right." Neville replied, "Let's do it."

"Do what?" the twins interrupted as one.

"I was just about to tell you." Haven replied, "Here's the situation, men…"

She gave a rundown of all they had found out so far, the attempt on her life, the stone, and Fluffy in a hushed tone, the others talking loudly to each other so no one else could hear her explanation.

Fred whistled once she reached her conclusion, before saying, "That's… that's bad."

"This is quite a situation you've gotten yourself in, Apprentice," George added.

"We'll admit, we're proud of your ability to get your nose into places it doesn't belong in," Fred commented, "But this is almost ridiculous. You're luck…"

"Yeah, it's Winchester luck." she replied, "It's really weird. Just don't question it too much. Anyway, so will you help us?"

"Why not?" George replied.

Fred continued, "After all, we can't let you get into trouble without us. You're still in training."

"Thank you." she replied gratefully, wrapping an arm around the twin next to her, George, in a sort of half-hug. The look on his face was a mix of amusement and discomfort as he patted her on the head, before she let go to return to her forgotten plate.

"In other news, you better free up some time tonight," Fred said, "We have work to do tonight, apprentice. We have to see how much you forgot over break."

"Goody." she replied drily.

And so that night she ended up stalking the empty halls of Hogwarts, setting up these small charmed objects in certain places as the twins had specified. She had no clue what they would do, but she'd been told to be careful and not drop them so she was understandably wary.

She'd debated on bringing the invisibility cloak she'd been sent for Christmas by a mysterious figure. However, she'd decided against it, due to the fact that she didn't know who'd sent it to her. They may have said it was her father's originally, but as they hadn't signed it she dare not trust it, no matter how useful it could be.

Maybe she'd run some tests on it, later. For now, however, she'd go without and use her own skill to overcome the silly test the twins had for her. At least it was good practice.

Once she'd set up every device they'd given her, she began heading back to the common room. It was actually pretty calming to walk through the empty, cold halls of the school in the middle of the night. There was no one nearby to stare at her or whisper about her. She could enjoy peace and quiet. Sure, there was always the worry that she'd get caught, but she'd learned ways of slipping away through several passages from Fred and George, who would never have forgiven themselves if they hadn't taught their 'darling' apprentice how to evade authority and escape any punishment. Not that she hadn't already had somewhat of a talent for slipping through the fingers of authority- after all, being a Winchester had it's perks.

On her way back, her eye was caught by a door left slightly ajar. Haven didn't know what was in the room, but she felt an irresistible urge to investigate, so she shrugged and slipped inside with hardly a sound. It wasn't like she didn't have plenty of time in which she could investigate. She'd done all the homework she needed to, and she still had time to squeeze in a solid four hours before she woke up for a jog around the lake.

The room she'd entered was an unused classroom, with desks piled against the walls. However, what caught her interest was the mirror facing her on the other side of the room. It was magnificent, with a gold frame and two clawed feet. Across the top was an inscription: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Idiotic curiosity still guiding her steps, she approached the mirror. What she saw drew a strangled gasp from her lips.

There, in the mirror, was a reflection of herself- smiling, happy, her brothers at her sides. Dean had an arm thrown around her shoulders, laughing as he used his free hand to ruffle her unruly hair. Sam was giggling as he wrapped his arms around her middle. Neville was sitting to the side, giggling at the three of them. Uncle Bobby was beside Neville, cleaning his shotgun with a grumpy expression on his face, but the amusement in his eyes made it clear he wasn't irritated by the shenanigans of the siblings.

"Dean?" she whispered, the longing in her voice permeating the air, "Sam?"

She looked behind her, only to see empty air. Yet, the figures remained in the mirror, happy and laughing. The air behind her was empty when she reached for Dean, she could imagine their touches but she couldn't feel them despite her strong desire too.

Haven looked back to the mirror, slowly falling to her knees as she reached forward, touching the mirror's cold surface. She wanted, more than anything, to fall right through the mirror, to where Dean was ruffling her hair, and Sam had his head buried in her side, and Uncle Bobby was fondly watching them, and Neville was a part of her family. She stared and stared, but she remained out here, alone in the cold, while another her was laughing, happy and surrounded by family. Their images didn't fade as time passed.

Eventually, with a supreme amount of willpower, she tore herself away with a whispered vow to her family, "I'll be back tomorrow."

As she made her way to the Gryffindor dorms, every step felt like another bit of her heart was chipped away, leaving her hollow. Her heart was back behind her, in that mirror with her family. Haven nearly turned back, just to see them one more time. Somehow, to her amazement, she didn't, returning to her room and going to sleep.

* * *

 **Neville's POV**

"Neville!" Haven's voice was the first thing that greeted him at the foot of the staircase leading up from the common room to the dormitories. "You have to come with me tonight- I found this mirror, and it's _amazing._ Neville, I saw- I saw my _family._ And we were happy, and I'm going to look again tonight. You'll come with me, won't you?"

Neville wasn't all too sure what she was talking about, but he was aware that by 'tonight' she meant 'after curfew'.

"I don't know." he replied, reluctant to sneak out in the event they were caught, "We could get in trouble."

"But Neville, you _have_ to come with me, tonight. Please?" The desperation in her eyes convinced him as much as it terrified him. He nodded, eyes a bit wide at the fanatical look in her eyes.

He could tell all day that she wasn't concentrating on classes as she always did, and she rushed through her homework, no care for how sloppy it looked. It was obviously nowhere near her standards, and everyone noticed, though no one seemed to have the bravery to ask. The look on her face was _terrifying,_ as if she'd been possessed, or gone mad. She waved off watching Professor Snape with them, despite her previous determination. She barely had anything to eat, and that was only because Neville had begged her to eat something.

Finally, it was time. Neville was determined to see what all the fuss was about at this point. It was freezing, but he didn't dare comment on it.

"Here it is!" she whispered excitedly, dragging him into an empty classroom characterized by the giant mirror awaiting them. Haven ran towards it, nearly falling over in her haste. She stopped just in front of it, her eyes taking on an obsessive quality as she stared hungrily at the mirror. Neville frowned, seeing nothing but her reflection.

"See?" Haven said.

"I can't see anything but you." Neville replied.

She stepped aside, beckoning him forward, "Here, where I am, you'll probably be able to see my family then."

He did as he was bid. When Neville peered into the mirror, what he saw caused him to give a strangled cry as he fell backwards.

"Do you see them?" Haven inquired. Neville, no longer having the power of speech, simply shook his head.

Haven's sharp, "What do you see?" sounded foggy and distant in his ears.

"It's… it's..." Neville whispered, his voice cracking, "They… they recognize me…"

There were tears blurring his vision, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His parents were smiling at him, pride in their eyes. They looked so healthy and young, no trace of the insanity that had darkened their eyes all of his remembered life. They recognized him, knew who he was. It was all he'd ever wanted.

Haven's voice was concerned as she asked, sounding as if she was far, far away, "Who recognizes you?"

His eyes didn't leave the image of the two figures standing at his sides as he replied in a longing voice, "My parents."

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

The next night, her and Neville once more went together to see the mirror. The night after, he'd fallen asleep before she went, and she decided not to wake him. She rushed down the now-familiar path, eager to once more see the image of her family, to live in the fantasy where she could convince herself that all was well, and Sam and Dean were laughing at her sides.

"Back again, Alexandrite?"

She jumped, turning around with her hand involuntarily reaching for the knife she carried on her person. Haven couldn't believe she'd walked straight past Dumbledore, but realized that she'd been so focused on the thought of seeing her family that she's done the unforgivable and ignored all else.

"I didn't see you, sir." she replied, wondering what he'd do to her for sneaking out. But he had said 'back again', so did that mean he'd been watching her when she visited the mirror for the last few days?

Dumbledore was smiling in that grandfatherly way of his as he said, "So, you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"Uh-huh." she replied, glancing at the words across the top of the mirror. The word Erised was the first one in the sentence. "Wait, isn't Erised just desire spelled backwards?"

It was odd how Haven had only noticed that now.

"Then you realize what the mirror does?" the headmaster inquired.

"Well, it shows me my family, and Neville his as well… but his are better, and they can recognize him in his. In mine, we're just… happy." she replied, "So it shows us what would make us happy?"

"Close. It shows us the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who lost your family at a very young age, see yourself happy with family. Neville Longbottom, whose family has never been whole, sees himself with parents no longer driven to insanity. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what is shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Alexandrite, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you get off to bed?"

Haven stood with one last glance at her brothers. A dream, huh? Maybe that was all they were now, a dream that existed only in her mind.

"Yes, sir." she replied, tearing her eyes away from the dream.

* * *

 **By the way, Dumbledore totally thought she saw the same thing canon Harry saw in the mirror. It would make sense from his perspective, and you say family to her and she'll always think Winchesters.**

 **I thought it fitting that Neville be a part of her family at this point. I was pretty heartbroken writing his vision in the mirror, cause that poor baby needs hugs.**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	26. Chapter 26: Anything You Say

**I bet you weren't expecting to see me again so soon! Well, my muse returned with a vengeance and decided it was time to start getting to the end of first year.** **I decided to go ahead and update since I've been so slow and having so little a chapter recently, as a treat or something. For, I don't know, being awesome and existing? Meh, I just was so excited about it I couldn't not share it. I hadn't realized we were so close to the end of first year until I was going through remaining events, and I started writing.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read up to this point, followed, favorited, and reviewed. Your support means a lot to me.**

 **If you think I own it, refer to previous chapters, please.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Anything You Say Will Only Fuel My Lungs**

 **Zacharias's POV**

Zacharias wasn't as ashamed as he thought he'd be when he finally lost it. He'd been leading up to it for _weeks_ , with how first Alexandrite was acting so weird so soon after returning from break, and then Neville followed the next day. Was it contagious or something? Whatever it was, he was done with it, especially when the two of them lost interest in watching Snape, when previously they had been overly driven to the task. They seemed to be improving, but it was like they'd _lost_ something, something important. However, Zacharias refused to let it drive him mad for any longer.

"One of you are going to tell me what is going on." he informed them, "You both know what I'm talking about, you've been too obvious to try and tell me everything's fine. It's not, and it hasn't been for weeks. I deserve to know why, especially because it's been interfering with our watching. You don't get to back out without telling us, _me_ , why first."

Silence followed his words, the two before him having some sort of silent conversation through glances and little movements. Finally, Alexandrite took a deep breath, meeting Neville's eyes on more time.

"You're sure?" she whispered to him. Neville didn't need to say a thing, she seemed to understand the look on his face.

Alexandrite plowed forward, "Alright, you're right, you do deserve to know. Well, it's- I found-"

"Everyone!" Michelangelo's voice called as he arrived at their table in the library, Hermione right beside him, "You won't _believe_ what I just heard!"

Everyone present turned toward the boy.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching… _him?"_ Zacharias demanded in a low voice.

Michelangelo nodded, "I was, but that's what I wanted to talk about. He went into the forest, and in there- he was threatening Professor Quirrell, asking him if he's found out how to get past Fluffy yet. Telling him that 'You don't want me as your enemy' and things like that. This _proves_ that it's him!"

"Did he say outright that he was after the Stone?" Alexandrite asked, eyes more alert than they had been in ages.

"Well, no." Michelangelo replied, looking uncomfortable. "But he might as well have!"

"This just proves that he's our enemy." Hermione added, "And the only thing stopping him is Quirrell, who is supposed to find out about how to get past Fluffy. He's probably got any other enchantments protecting it all figured out."

"Well, that's not exactly proof." Zacharias replied, "I doubt anyone will believe us with just words, and not even words outright saying he's guilty. If we go after him without evidence, _we'll_ be the ones in the wrong, and no one will believe us."

Hermione and Michelangelo looked very put out by that idea. However, they'd have to live with it. Zacharias would not face the political fallout from accusing a respected potion's master without evidence.

Months passed without Quirrell ever seeming to give in, if Hermione and Michelangelo's theory was correct. It was more than anybody had expected of him, being the nervous thing he was.

The group was studying in the library for exams one day when it finally happened.

"Alex!" the voices of the twins were borderline panicked as they barreled into the library, coming to a stop at their table. They were breathing hard- obviously they'd run nearly the entire way.

The first twin said through breaths, "The Stone-"

"-Quirrell's after it!" finished the second.

"No time to explain how we know-"

"But Dumbledore's left the school!"

"Wait, _what?"_ Alexandrite demanded, standing up.

"Quirrell? But what about Snape?" Michelangelo added as the others shoved their things in their bags and grabbed their wands.

"Well, we obviously got it wrong." Zacharias replied, "Good thing we didn't turn him in, huh?"

"We don't have time for this. I'll meet you outside Gryffindor Common Room." with that, Alexandrite fled the library. Everyone followed after, Zacharias returning to his common room for a moment to drop of his school things. He'd only need his wand.

They met up in the designated area, Alexandrite carrying one of her weapons in hand, her shotgun. She was probably carrying a few knives on her person, knowing her.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked.

Neville took a deep breath, "We have to get in contact with Dumbledore, if we can. Until then, we stall Quirrell as long as possible. Fred, George, can you get in contact with him and make sure no one follows us?"

Fred and George nodded, absolutely serious in expression.

"Maybe we should get in contact with a teacher? Tell them what's going on?" Hermione asked, uncertain.

"Who would believe us?" Zacharias replied, "Honestly, I'm not sure _I_ believe us. Seriously, _Quirrell?"_

"I hate to say it," began Michelangelo, "But I think our best bet is Snape."

"Alright, who wants to go tell him, then?" Alexandrite asked.

Michelangelo answered, "Well, neither you or Neville should. He hates you, he'd never listen. Me and Hermione are Gryffindors, and he hates us nearly as much."

Zacharias got a very bad feeling as Michelangelo turned to him, hand resting on Zacharias's shoulder, "So, Zacharias, that leaves you. Our prayers and hopes go with you, man… may the force be with you."

Zacharias had no clue what this 'force' was, but it set Alexandrite off into giggles and Hermione was leveling her most irritated gaze at him.

"This isn't the time." Hermione informed him.

"There's always time! Besides, it seemed fitting." Michelangelo replied.

Neville interrupted, "Alright. Zacharias, go and tell Snape. The rest of us are going to stall for time."

As they left, Zacharias cursed. A bunch of idiot Gryffindors were going after Quirrell, alone. Without him, the only one with sanity and a firm grasp of reality. Hermione and Neville were intelligent enough, but they still had that Gryffindor stupidity that would get them killed.

He better work fast. He'd only have one shot at getting Snape to listen to him. Alone, he stood little more chance than the Gryffindors did. He'd need help, and he knew just who he'd have to go to.

"I'm not seriously going to-" he paused, huffed, then began walking, "Screw it."

His reckless friends needed him to, damn it. He didn't have time to waste, and this was the most likely way for him to convince the professor. His pace quickened, the idea of any of them dying beginning to bear down on him.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." Zacharias muttered. He needed to find him soon- _now-_ actually, five minutes ago.

He didn't have _time!_

Finally, he found who he was looking for. He restrained a sigh of relief, knowing that convincing him would take time he didn't have, but it was necessary.

"I need you to convince Snape to listen to me for five minutes and not slam the door in my face. Five minutes is all I need." Zacharias said, not allowing either Draco or his companion time to speak before him.

Draco blinked, caught by surprise, "Uh… why?"

Zacharias huffed, "I don't have time to explain right now, but it's important. It involves the foolish _Gryffindors_ getting themselves into danger. He is the only one likely to believe us, but unfortunately he's also least likely to stop and listen for more than two seconds. Because _I'm_ the only Hufflepuff, the only non-Gryffindor, no one intelligent can keep a watch on them, because _I_ have the best chance of convincing him! Why did I make friends with _Gryffindors!_ Idiotic, reckless Gryffindors, who'll jump in without thinking and wind up _dead!"_

His rant finished, Zacharias observed Draco. He appeared to be a mix of surprised and confused, but didn't seem too inclined to help. Zacharias crossed his arms. Good thing he knew how to convince the boy, then.

" _Fine._ If that doesn't convince you, Neville's _right_ there next to her, and since she's got that insane luck, everything that goes wrong will _conveniently_ pass right by her, and get _Neville,_ because _he_ does not have the privilege of _insane luck._ In fact, he seems to have rather _bad_ luck." Zacharias cried, nearly done. To be honest, he _might_ have been freaking out, worried out of his mind that the others had already gotten hurt. Might.

Draco's companion, the Zabini boy, commented, "For a Hufflepuff, you're radiating an awful lot of murderous intent. I'm rather impressed."

"What?!-" the Hufflepuff demanded, "Who even _are_ you?! What are you even doing here?! I understand you've recently taken up spending time with _Malfoy,_ but seriously?! Right now, you look like an _extra._ I only need one, and that is Draco. So I suggest you shut up."

Said extra nods once, stepping back a pace. Good. He should be scared, because Zacharias was _this_ close to strangling something… or someone.

"Alright." Draco said, "I'll help you. Not for you, I don't like you."

"Great!" Zacharias replied, "Because I don't like _you._ Let's go."

The three hurried down the hall. When they were nearly there, Draco suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Wait, you called me by my first name." Draco pointed out, "Draco."

"Shut up, or I will do something I probably wouldn't regret. However, Longbottom would be _upset_ , and making him upset is like kicking a puppy- you just don't do it! He gets those _eyes_ and that _expression,_ likes he's heartbroken but forgives you anyways, and just- _no!"_ Zacharias exclaimed. Draco grimaced at his words, probably familiar with the expression.

Without any further comments, the group trooped forward. Zacharias could hear the ticking seconds as they passed by, each making it more likely that he'd be too late.

If they died like fools without him, he'd drag them back to life so he could hex them back to death.

* * *

 **Snape's POV**

When his godson walked in with a request, this was the last thing the professor had ever expected. Draco only asked to give another a few minutes of his time, and to hear him out. Severus agreed, out of curiosity.

Then the Hufflepuff walked in. He wasn't too sure on the boy's name, as Severus had never paid much attention to the horde of Hufflepuff students. How had this boy managed to get Draco to do a favor for him like this?

And then, Severus listened to the tale the boy told. The way he all but demanded Severus to help, the way he stood fearlessly in front of him despite the unimpressed glare that adorned Severus's face, made him wonder if this kid really was a Hufflepuff. He certainly didn't _act_ like it.

The story concluded, Severus exchanged dubious glances with the two Slytherins in attendance, who both seemed taken aback by the story as well.

Draco's friend, Blaise Zabini, said with the air of someone who hadn't meant to say something out loud, "Hufflepuffs. Who knew."

The Hufflepuff turned really slowly to face Zabini. His expression made it obvious that if it hadn't been such a useless waste of time, he'd crush the Slytherin like a bug under his shoe. With a snort of contempt, the Hufflepuff turned back to Severus, Blaise Zabini spared simply because of the time limit. The young Slytherin went silent, looking at his shoes.

Severus gives Zabini an unimpressed look. He never thought he'd see the day. A Hufflepuff acting like a Slythindor, and a Slytherin backing down to said Hufflepuff. Perhaps this may be a sign of some impending apocalypse.

"So," The Hufflepuff/ Slythindor asked, "Are you going to help us or not?"

The look on his face said he clearly had no time for this, and the decision should be made quickly, or the Hufflepuff would be on his way.

Sighing at the absurdity of what he was doing, Severus stood. "You three, you can follow or not. Don't slow me down if you do, and don't speak of this to anyone if you don't."

He grabbed his wand from his desk and made his way to the door. Severus paused by the Hufflepuff, saying in his most threatening tone, "Afterwards, we are going to have a very long chat on just how you found out all of this."

The Hufflepuff only replied, "This is the part where I say that it was all Potter's fault."

Severus couldn't help the smirk that appeared. Of course it was that brat's fault, and even if it wasn't, that was a masterful move on the Hufflepuff's part. Severus would have to start watching this one.

* * *

 **Zacharias's POV**

Zacharias was actually a bit amazed that he'd managed to get the Professor to actually listen to him, but he had no time to reflect on that. The idiots were waiting for him to bring them reinforcements.

On the way to the third floor corridor, they ran into the Cavalry, otherwise known as Dumbledore, Fred, and George. The two groups stopped to eye one another.

"I see you were also successful in your mission." Zacharias commented, directed towards the twins. The two took one look at his smug face, and then his own reinforcements, and looked positively shocked.

"Huh. He actually did it." said one, looking to his twin.

"Just a little Hufflepuff, too. So I guess he didn't get the door slammed in his face." the other added. The last little straw needed placed, and Zacharias exploded.

"If _one more_ person comments on me being a Hufflepuff, I'm going to commit homicide!" he roars, "Barbaric, gruesome, bloody _homicide!"_

The Extra unwisely comments, "Um… Isn't that a bit hypocritical? You keep commenting about them being reckless Gryffindors, and then…"

The Extra falls silent at the power of Zacharias's glare.

They quickly made their way to the corridor, past Fluffy and several other obstacles meant to slow someone down more than stop them. The first sign of the others was the destruction of a giant chess board, Michelangelo laying on the ground and Hermione panicking above him.

Fred and George, without being asked, pick up the wounded Gryffindor and begin taking him back. The Extra stayed to console Hermione for some reason, who informed them between sobs that she'd sent Neville and Haven ahead and they hadn't come back yet when they should have come back by now. Needless to say, Zacharias wasn't willing to waste any more time.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected when the Professors extinguished the flames that led to the room holding the Stone, but the sight came at just as much of a blow.

The names of Neville and Alexandrite came out as screams.

* * *

 **Hahaha I'm evil though. This was lots of fun to write, mostly because Zacharias's rants when he's panicking are priceless.**

 **I think I'm becoming very partial to this interpretation of the precious Hufflepuff. If you hadn't noticed already... Also, Blaise is pretty fun, too, especially because he hasn't been totally characterized and I know what his future is. Lots of fun. Neville's awesomeness already exists, no interpretation about it.**

 **Hufflepuffs are awesome, and can be scary when they want. You can't tell me otherwise!**


	27. Chapter 27: Living the Dangerous Life

**Hello readers! I'm back with the next chapter, and it's confirmed that we'll be back on schedule for a while here.**

 **I'm glad everyone seems to have gotten attached to Zacharias as I have, he's just as precious as the others. All of them are my precious babies.**

 **I own absolutely nothing, though I really want to. However, it is not to be, until I take over the world... if one of my friends doesn't stage a rebellion. They'd do that. Love them anyways.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Living the Dangerous Life**

"Great, we're here…" Michelangelo commented, staring at the door that separated them from Fluffy, "So how exactly are we going to get past the dog, again?"

Haven grinned, reaching into her pocket. She loved it when she planned for things ahead of time.

"Well, in mythology, Orpheus played music, and the Cerberus went to sleep, allowing him to pass. I figured it was worth a shot. Of course, I tested it a few weeks ago, and it does work." she replied, pulling out the small device that held a recording. Slowly opening the door to where Fluffy was kept, she hit play.

Instantly, the haunting notes of a flute filled the air. Inside, the giant dog went to sleep.

"Isn't that Zacharias playing?" Michelangelo hissed over her shoulder. At her nod, he added, "How did you even get that?"

"A girl has her ways…" her smirk faded, "Just don't tell him I have it."

Not another word was said as the four crept into the room. A harp lay at the feet of the slumbering dog- confirming that someone else had been here before them. They carefully opened the trapdoor, finding a dark abyss within.

"I can't see the bottom." Hermione commented, "How are we going to get down there?"

Haven rolled her eyes, before chirping, "We fall!"

With that, she shoved the recording into Neville's hands and threw herself into the trapdoor, ignoring the alarmed protests of her friends. The air rushed past, whistling in her ears. As time dragged on, she realized that maybe jumping hadn't been the best idea she's ever had.

Suddenly, she landed on something soft, a plant of some sort.

"I'm okay! It's a soft landing, come on down!" she called to the light of the trapdoor above her. Michelangelo followed first, then Hermione, and finally, Neville.

"Lucky this plant thing is here to make sure we don't break our necks." Michelangelo commented.

"Uh- guys?" Neville's voice was uncertain as the boy leaped away from the plant, Hermione following. Haven and Michelangelo looked down.

"Oh. That might be a problem." she commented, noticing that the plant had crept up her body, firmly entangling her. She tried to free her legs, but the plant only wound itself faster around her.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Hermione announced. "But I can't remember how to kill it!"

"It doesn't like light, especially fire." Neville recited easily, his mind for herbology making it's appearance. Without further prompting, Haven yanked an arm free and lit a fire with her wand. The plant instantly slunk back. Haven managed to pull herself free, quickly yanking Michelangelo after her as she fled for the solid ground.

The group looked ahead at the only path available to them- a stone passageway that sloped downwards. The lighting was very dim, but some light was coming from further down. No other choice ahead of them, the four decided to explore the stone passageway. As they neared the end of the passageway, a sort of soft clinking could be heard.

"Can you hear that?" Neville whispered to her. She hissed back an affirmative.

"It sounds sort of like wings." Hermione commented, peering ahead into the light, "I think I see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway, a chamber lit up before them. It contained a high arched ceiling, and a heavy wooden door at the other side of the room, with a large lock. In the air flew dozens of shiny, metallic birds.

The group walked forward, watching the birds in fascination.

"They look a bit like keys, with wings," Haven observed, "Do you think one of them is for the door?"

"Likely." Hermione replied, "They wouldn't be here for decoration, after all. I doubt the door can be opened by any spell, but we should still try."

The door didn't budge under any standard spell, as guessed.

"So how do we get a key?" Michelangelo asked. Everyone began looking around the room for clues, quickly catching sight of the two broomsticks floating by the wall to one side.

"It'll be silver. Big, old fashioned." Hermione informed the others, carefully observing the lock on the door.

"Alex? Michelangelo?" Neville asked, looking to the two best fliers in the room. She nodded, saluting, before running to claim one of the broomsticks. Both of them searched through the darting keys for the correct one.

Before long, Haven spotted a large silver key with a bent wing, "Right here! Found it. Michelangelo, help me corner it, so it can't dart away."

It took a few tries, but eventually they managed to catch the darting key, likely due to the fact that it was slower than the others, as one of it's wings was bent. Quickly, the pair landed, Haven jamming the key into the lock and quickly opening the door.

"We need to hurry." Michelangelo noted, "He might already have the Stone by now!"

The next room was pitch black, at least until they stepped in and light suddenly flooded the room. The expanse of the next chamber was taken up by a large, life sized chessboard. The door opened behind the black chessmen, which were taller than all of them, even Michelangelo. Faceless white chessmen blocked the other door. When the group made their way to the other door, the white chessmen barred their path.

"I think we'll have to play." Michelangelo noted, "So who's the best at chess in here?"

Haven's eyes immediately shot to Neville, who was shaking his head at her.

"No." Neville said. "I can't play."

"Yes, you can." Haven insisted, "I've seen you play before, you're good. I can't play as well as you, you know I can't. I'm not strategic. You are."

"But, Haven, what if I mess up?" Neville protested.

"I believe in you."

Neville goes silent, taken aback by her vote of confidence. After several moments, he draws in a deep breath.

"Alright." Neville said, back going straight. "Alex, take the place of the King. Hermione, take the place of the-"

"Nope." Haven interrupted, sensing that he'd been trying to protect her, probably without realizing it, "Make Hermione the King."

He shrugged, "Hermione, you be the King then. Alex, you can be the Knight right behind you, and Michelangelo, you can be the bishop on the opposite side of Alex."

They took their places quickly and without further words. Neville became the rook on Haven's side. Neville quickly took charge of the pieces, his face with a determined sort of light that impressed Haven. She could help but beam with pride as he began taking out several white pieces, artfully keeping them out of harm's way.

She couldn't help but imagine that this was a battlefield, with Neville as the Commander, leading his troops to take down a faceless enemy.

The dream was shattered when their first piece was taken, smashed to little shards and hauled off the board. She saw Neville go white. He looked back to her, fear in his eyes.

She smiled, pushing back the fear, and gave him a thumbs up. He turned back to the game, still white but no longer so scared.

Several moves later, she noticed he took an abnormally long time deliberating on what move to make. She scanned the board, trying to figure out what had him stumped.

"Neville." Michelangelo's voice pierced through the grim quiet, "I see it. You should."

"No, I'm not going to do that." Neville replied.

Michelangelo argued, "But it leaves Alex open to take the King!"

Haven now could see what they were talking about. If Michelangelo moved one space diagonal right, he could be taken, leaving her a clear path for the King.

"But, Michelangelo…" Neville replied, conflicted.

"There might not be another opening." Michelangelo pointed out. "I'll be fine, and we're already running out of time. What if Quirrell already has the Stone? _Do it."_

Neville stayed quiet for another moment, before nodding. Michelangelo took a deep breath, stepping forward. He looked so small and defenseless, standing before the giant of a queen. The White Queen pounced, knocking him aside with her massive stone arm. Hermione screamed, and Haven and Neville exchanged sickened looks.

"Haven." Neville's voice was unsteady, "Take the king."

She stepped before the King, who threw off his crown, at Haven's feet. The three hurried forward, with glances back to Michelangelo's unmoving form.

"We can't just leave him…" Hermione whispered.

Haven put a hand on her shoulder, "We need everyone we can get to stall Quirrell. We'll come back for him, he'll be fine. Besides, Zacharias, Fred, and George will get him soon."

Hermione nodded, and they continued forward. The next room was filled with a terrible odor, making them gag.

"Ugh, it's a troll." Haven gagged, "Let's get out."

They hurried past the unconscious troll, through the next door. This one only contained a table with seven bottles. As the three stepped in, fire sprang up behind them and before them, blocking both exits.

Sitting on the table was a roll of parchment. Without a word, the three unrolled it and began reading.

" _Brilliant."_ Hermione breathed, "This isn't magic- it's logic- a puzzle."

"Well, that sounds right down your alley." Haven commented with a smile and wave of her hands, "Take it away."

It only took Hermione a few minutes to discover that the smallest bottle would send them ahead.

"It's only enough for two, if we're careful." Hermione noted, biting her lip, "You two should go ahead. I'll- I'll look after Michelangelo."

Haven and Neville exchanged a glance.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" asked Neville quietly.

She nodded, her eyes a little watery, "Be careful you two. Don't get hurt, please. I know you can do it, but look after each other…"

Hermione burst into tears.

"Hermione, it's okay. I got my weapons, and Neville's right by me. Go back with Michelangelo. We've got Quirrell." Haven said with more confidence than she really had. If Quirrell was in there, she'd misjudged his character, and that meant she had no idea what to expect. What if Neville got hurt?

Hermione threw her arms around both of them, before taking a drink of her own potion and heading for Michelangelo.

Haven looked at Neville, swirling the tiny bottle in her hands. "This is it."

"It is." he replied, face still pale.

"We can do this." Haven said, drawing out one of her knives and handing it to Neville, "Take this. For protection."

Mutely, he accepted the knife. Haven took a sip from the potion, before handing it to Neville. Once he'd downed the last little bit, she grabbed his hand and went through the black fire.

On the other side, they came face to face with a Quirrell who was perfectly calm, staring at the Mirror of Erised. He turned to them as they entered, a twisted smile lighting his features.

"Potter, I was wondering if you'd show up." Quirrell said, no trace of a stutter, "Though Longbottom is certainly a surprise. I would have thought he would have fainted before getting past that dog."

It was official, she hated him just as much as Snape. "Funny, I would have thought the same of you."

She drew her shotgun, letting go of Neville's hand to do so, "Drop your wand."

At this Quirrell began laughing coldly, "No need for that, Potter."

He snapped his fingers, and the shotgun was thrown out of her hands, clattering to the ground beside him. At the same moment, ropes appeared out of thin air to wrap around Haven. Neville dropped beside her, free of rope but attempting to free her of her own.

"You're much to nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone." Quirrell commented.

"So you're the one who let the troll in?" she questioned curiously, trying to keep him talking while she came up with a game plan.

"I have a gift with trolls. Unfortunately, while everyone was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly." Quirrell informed her.

She loved it when monsters had a habit of going off on long monologues. It left her plenty of time to think.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror." he said, turning back to the mirror. She was a mix of insulted and grateful he had completely ignored Neville, who was discreetly cutting the rope with the knife she'd given him.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone." Quirrell murmured, "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…"

Good thing Fred and George were getting in contact with him, then, and that they also had the hope of Snape's help.

"So, just how many chats with Snape did you have in the forest?" Haven asked, "A fan of moonlit, secret meetings, hm?"

"Just that once was all." Quirrell replied, hardly paying attention to her or what she said as he examined the back of the mirror, "He was onto me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd gotten. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me- as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…"

Neville let out a little squeak as Haven gasped, going white.

"Wait- _Lord Voldemort?"_ she demanded, "You're working for him!? What's he got to do with this?"

The man laughed, "What has he got to do with this? Everything, Potter, _everything._ I have no interest in the Stone, beyond bringing my master back." he stopped, examining the front of the mirror, "I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Well, that was plot twist if she'd ever seen one. It was confirmed that Voldemort wasn't dead, but that wasn't so important as keeping Quirrell from getting the Stone. It was doubly important, if he had Voldie on his side. At least the man was alone, she stood more of a chance.

"So, where is he, then?" Haven asked, "Voldemort? You must have kept in contact somehow, though all of this."

"Oh, yes. He is with me wherever I go." said Quirrell in a quiet tone, "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…"

No. There were humans, and there were monsters. Currently, he fell in the monster category.

"Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered, "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

His attention returned to the mirror, "I don't understand… is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?"

Neville cut the last of her ropes. She gave him a quick smile, her hand reaching for a knife behind her back, and her other hand grabbing her wand.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!" Quirrell cried.

A voice responded, "Use the girl… use the girl…"

Damn it all to Hell.

She surged to her feet, knife aimed at his shoulder. Using his wand, he flicked it to the side, out of her hand.

"None of that, Potter. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see." Quirrell ordered. She walked forward, her mind racing. What if she got the Stone? She needed to get it. Once she did, she could get it to Neville.

She stepped before the mirror.

* * *

 **Neville's POV**

Neville was terrified. They were in so far above their heads that it was pitiful. Haven stood before the mirror, likely seeing the image of her family that had haunted her for months. He longed to look into it, too, to see his parents again, but he shoved the desire down. He had been forgotten for the time being, and he needed to use his position wisely.

As the silence drew on, Quirrell demanded, "Well? What do you see?"

She glared contemptuously, replying, "You drowning in a rain barrel, what else?"

Neville buried his face in his hands. She was going to get them both killed. Quirrell angrily shoved her out of the way, and she came over to Neville, slipping something into his hand.

It was the Philosopher's Stone.

"Get out." she hissed, "Now."

"She lies… she lies…" came the voice, high pitched and hissing.

"Potter! Come back here!" ordered Quirrell at a shout, "Tell me the truth! What do you see?"

Again came the high voice, the one that made Neville's skin crawl, "Let me speak to her… face-to-face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!" argued Quirrell.

"I have strength enough… for this…" replied the voice. Neville watched in horrified fascination as Quirrell began unwrapping his turban. With it gone, his head seemed smaller. He turned, revealing a terrible face growing out of the back of his own, unhealthily white with red eyes and slits for nostrils.

And Haven? She just burst into giggles, holding her sides. "S- Seriously? Haha, you're growing out of his _head._ You look- so- _stupid,_ like some corny animated cartoon or something! And- how do you _breathe-_ with those little slits? Oh, god, I needed that."

Neville glared at her. Couldn't she just shut up for once, and maybe _not_ get them killed? Knowing her, no.

She hunched over, facing away from Voldemort. Her eyes were deadly serious.

 _Run. Now._ Her face said. _I'm distracting him, go._

"SEIZE HER!" shouted Voldemort. Letting out an enraged scream, Quirrell lunged towards Haven as she shoved Neville forward, towards the door.

He fell to the ground, his wrist breaking as it connected with the Philosopher's Stone. Red lightning consumed his vision, before everything went gold and he knew no more.

* * *

 **Ah, Haven's sass. It makes me laugh, though I'm wondering how she'll survive the next few years. Thank you all for reading this far, see you next week!**


	28. Chapter 28: Stay Out Of My Way

**As anyone who reviewed last chapter could see, the main characters have taken over the answering of reviews. They should be staying around this chapter, so if you have any questions for them, feel free to ask!**

 **Btw, there's a separate one-shot I posted for those of you who are interested that's basically Fred and George's take on this chapter, made for nothing but humor. There is no logic. It's called Good Storytelling.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: Stay Out Of My Way**

 **Neville's POV**

In Neville's dream, the golden light persisted, and he thought he might have heard someone scream. The light was filled with raw energy, whipping around him like a hurricane, wind whistling in his ears. He could feel power course through his veins, fighting off the exhaustion that had taken over his body.

The dream came to an end after a long while, allowing him to wake up.

He fought to open his eyes, asking in a croak, "Am I dead?"

Neville was within the cheerily lit Hospital Wing, Zacharias sitting by his bed with his arms crossed. He could see Haven curled up in one of the beds further down.

"No, you aren't." Zacharias answered him, "But you're lucky."

"What happened to- Alex? Is she okay? And what about Quirrell, and You-Know-Who? And the Stone?" Neville demanded, sitting bolt upright. A wave of dizziness nearly sent him down again.

Zacharias huffed, steadying him, "Be careful, you nearly burned yourself up."

"Wait… what?" Neville asked, confused.

"Your magic. As far as we can tell, you… well, you _exploded._ Your magic did. It did quite a number on that room, you nearly sent it crashing down on your heads. Dumbledore says you must have destroyed the Stone, and well…" Zacharias grimaced, "The explosion destroyed Quirrell."

Neville attempted to get up, a sudden panic filling him. If it had destroyed the Stone, and Quirrell… Haven. Zacharias caught him as he fell.

"And Haven?" he demanded, struggling to rise, "Is she- is she-"

Neville didn't dare voice his fears out loud, he couldn't. His voice failed him just as his limbs did.

"Calm down, she'll live." Zacharias said, helping Neville back onto the bed, "She got hurt, but she'll recover. Trust me, you were worse off than her."

Neville nodded, calming down as suggested, his fears fading to be replaced by his confusion. "So I just… exploded? That's insane. How?"

"Dumbledore has a few theories, but I don't really know. It could have been a case of extreme accidental magic. Something else could have triggered your magic to lose control, I don't know." Zacharias sighed, sitting back down with his hand against the side of his head. "You know, you gave us quite the scare, me and Malfoy. He isn't here, just in case Alexandrite wakes up, or Michelangelo visits. By the way, you owe me a favor."

"I do? Why?" Neville asked.

Zacharias crossed his arms, expression coming suspiciously close to a pout, "I had to go to _Malfoy_ for _help_ to get Snape to listen to me. So you owe me. Also, you should probably go talk to him when you get out of here. When we found you two, well… it wasn't pretty. We feared the worst, and he hasn't been able to visit at all since we brought you in here."

Neville nodded, making a note to do so, before looking back at Haven's sleeping form, "She was closer to me. Why do you think it killed Quirrell, and not… and not her?"

Somehow, his magic had killed Quirrell (he really wasn't sure how he felt about that). He didn't know what would have happened to You-Know-Who in that case, but it couldn't be good. And yet Haven, who should have taken the brunt of it, was only injured.

"Dumbledore says that you must have recognized her as a friend, and attempted to protect her. Or, at least, your magic recognized hers. He was pretty vague about everything- trying to get information out of him was like trying to pull teeth, but I knew the two of you would want to know what had happened." Zacharias explains, sounding weary, "You should probably get some more sleep. You still look half-dead."

Neville nodded, settling himself down. Sleep didn't sound like such a bad idea, in all honesty. As Zacharias left, he remembered that he had broken his wrist in his fall. He looked at it, but it appeared as good as new. Of course, Madam Pomfrey had probably fixed it up first-thing.

With that thought, he went back to sleep.

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

Being exploded by your best friend wasn't very fun. For one, it hurt, which was a bit self explanatory as it was literally an explosion of thundering magic on the same level destruction-wise as a natural disaster. The room was filled with rampaging golden light, red lightning hiding Neville from her eyes, coming in waves. Quirrell was screaming terribly, but soon, those screams ended, and as the golden light finally began fading, she passed out.

Michelangelo and Hermione had explained things to her when she'd woken up, not that she'd needed too much explaining. The Stone and Quirrell had been destroyed in the explosion, and Voldemort had disappeared.

She wasn't allowed to leave the Hospital Wing when Michelangelo was, but luckily Neville was there to keep her company, as well as her other friends who would visit when Neville slept.

The end of the year feast, which she had to beg Madam Pomfrey to allow Neville to attend, was a spectacular affair. Gryffindor won with a good lead, despite the fact that they had failed the match to Ravenclaw with their star Seeker being in the Hospital Wing at the time.

"Honestly, I would have thought that I lost so many points to Snape that we would be last, third at most." Haven told Neville over the ruckus. Perhaps all of Hermione's points in classes balanced out those she lost.

Exam results came in soon after, with Haven and Hermione passing with flying colors, and Zacharias not far behind them. Neville and Michelangelo both passed at about average, but Neville had been so sure he had failed the Potions one that the barely passing grade for that class surprised him.

All that studying she'd done with Neville had paid off, then.

A few days before they were to leave, Haven excused herself and went to visit Dumbledore, unable to keep the smile off her face. Neville had destroyed the bad guy and the Stone (which was more trouble than it was worth), they'd all done well on their tests, and she would get to see her family! All she had to do was to check with the professor to see about transportation, and all would be well.

Her good mood couldn't be dampened, not even when Dumbledore explained that she may have to stay with friends for a few weeks, just until they could find the location of the Winchesters and get in contact, as, in his words: "They are quite the slippery bunch."

She laughed at his words, "Well, you could always send me to Uncle Bobby. If anyone can get in contact with them, he can."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, reflecting her enthusiasm, as he replied gently, "I'm afraid that will be impossible, as the man is not your legal guardian and I do not know him, I cannot, in good conscious, send you to him."

Still the picture of goodwill despite the flicker of doubt beginning to enter her mind, Haven said, "Well, that's fine. We'll send a letter to him, or, better yet, I'll call him, once I get ahold of a phone, since letters haven't been very reliable for me. I'll get the location and time, and then we can make arrangements to send me home."

The twinkle disappeared, Dumbledore going quiet. Too quiet.

"You… you don't want me to go home, do you?" Haven asked quietly after several long moments of silence, a dangerous sort of light in her green eyes. He looked down, uncomfortable, confirming her suspicions.

"You didn't send me home for Christmas on _purpose,_ didn't you?" she continued, voice getting steadily more furious as things began falling into place, "What- _why?!"_

Dumbledore sighed, looking exhausted, "I understand your anger, however, I have reason, my dear girl."

 _You better make it quick._ She thought, too furious to say a word.

"Hunters are… well, they aren't very understanding of magic, or our way of life. Many of them lump us in with other monsters they kill. Such an environment is dangerous to you. I do not know the Winchesters myself, but John Winchester has a reputation among wizards as one who would attack you without a second thought." Dumbledore explained, staring out the window instead of at her.

"But… but sir… they're my _family."_ she replied in a whisper, knowing and _hating_ that he was right, John Winchester had already threatened her life, pointed a gun at her. There was no telling how safe she'd be with them.

But he couldn't keep her away from Sam and Dean. They'd never hurt her; they were her family, her brothers. Because he was right about John Winchester, there was little chance she could convince him to let her go home, and she hated him all the more for it. He didn't _understand_ how much it hurt her to be away from them, how much she relied on Dean, on Sam, for everything. For bravery, happiness, for her very _identity,_ in a way.

"I'm aware." his eyes softened, only fueling her anger, "But can you honestly tell me that you would feel safe there, with them?"

She went silent. Haven knew that, deep down, she'd never feel safe around John Winchester, not after he'd pointed a gun at her. The experience of the one she considered a father turning on her like she was a bloodthirsty monster was one she'd never be able to forget.

Haven's lip trembled, "But… Sam and Dean… they'd _never_ hurt me, ever. They're my brothers."

Dumbledore continued, "I understand that, however, I cannot put you in harm's way. They've taught you to hunt, showing how reckless they already are with your life. Even you know that John Winchester doesn't have your best interests at heart. That is no place for a child to live. I've already made arrangements for you over the summer. The Weasley's were more than happy to allow you into their home when I explained the situation to them-"

"So, what, you're just going to force me to forget about them?!" she demanded, banging her fists onto the table, "Stop me from seeing them, what next, you're going to keep me from talking to-"

She went red with fury, realization hitting her like a battering ram, " _You! You've_ been stopping my letters! That's why I haven't heard from them all year!"

Dumbledore flinched, she'd hit the nail on the head, "I… I thought it would be best for you… to lose your attachment to them. It will be easier this way, easier to forget."

Her anger boiled over, taking her breath away momentarily with just how strong the emotion was.

" _Forget?!"_ her voice was an enraged screech, "Do you have any- _any-_ idea?! How- how much _sleep_ I lost, how many nights I went to sleep and woke up crying?! They're my family! I can't throw that away, and _you can't make me!"_

"Ms. Potter, I-"

" _Go to Hell!"_ she hissed, turning and stomping to the door. Haven paused, her hand hovering over the ornate handle, before making a last biting addition, "And it's _Winchester."_

Haven stalked down the stairs after slamming the door as hard as physically possible, furious tears leaking for her eyes. How _dare_ he- the _nerve_ of him!

How was she going to get home? How was she going to get in contact with her family, if her mail was blocked?

She knew that before anything else, she had to tell Neville. He could help, at least help her get a control on herself before she blew something up.

Neville read the anger off her face as soon as she walked into the Common Room, asking before she had a chance to say a word, "What happened?"

Haven realized her entire body was trembling, she was so angry. "Not here. I uh- I found out why I haven't gotten any letters from my brothers."

Neville nodded once in his most serious way, following her as she led him into one of the more empty parts of the castle.

"Dumbledore." was the first word out of her mouth, "It was _Dumbledore._ He was blocking my mail, and he won't let me see them, ever, if he has his way."

Neville's look of shock would have been amusing in any other situation, "What?! That makes no sense, it's- it's insane! _Dumbledore?!_ But he..."

"He was going on and on about how he was only trying to protect me from them! He never asked _me_ how I felt, probably didn't even care! He just took control of my life like I'm some sort of- of puppet! It's not his right, he _can't keep me from them!_ He _can't!"_ her cry was accompanied by the shattering of the windows, likely a case of accidental magic due to her rampaging emotions.

Neville needed no further prompting to give her a hug. That was the last straw- she burst into tears, a mixture of anger and desperation within them.

"He can, at least for now." Neville said quietly in her ear. She was surprised to find that he sounded furious- calm, happy, forgiving Neville, sounding so angry. "He has the power and means to stop you, and no one's going to question it if he says it's for your protection. Everyone knows Hunters are dangerous, they've killed some of our own before. No one would ever think to question him."

"There has to be something I can do." she replied, burying her face into his shoulder, "Is there any way? He won't listen to me, and- well, he's not totally wrong about dad being dangerous. But my brothers- they wouldn't hurt me. And neither would Uncle Bobby. He's making me stay with the Weasleys."

"Well, you don't have any sort of power to do anything, at least not now. You're the girl-who-lived, but since you're a kid there's only so much you can do with it. Dumbledore is a well-respected figure, and his side will seem reasonable to anyone else." Neville explained.

"So… I won't… I won't see them again?" she whispered, "In… years, maybe? They won't hear from me… what if they forget me? What if they die before I can say goodbye? I _have_ to see them, talk to them, _something._ He _can't_ keep me from them, it's not right! He just _can't!"_

"There might be a way to send letters to them, through other people. From one of our friends, to, say, someone who can get in contact with them?" Neville suggested.

"Uncle Bobby." she answered, "He could get letters to them."

"You can send letters to him. Through Fred and George would be a good way to do it, since I'm almost positive no one checks their mail, with all the things they manage to get into school. They'd be more than willing to help." Neville suggested.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, excitement and hope coursing through her veins as she threw her arms around Neville, who staggered back, "You're a genius, Neville!"

"I'm not so sure about that." he replied as she pulled away.

"Well, I'm sure enough for the both of us." Haven said, running several ideas through her mind, "I'll talk to Fred and George about it, they'll understand. But… I'm going to do something about Dumbledore. I don't care how long it takes, but I can't let him do this. It's my _family."_

Neville sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I won't stop you, if you're sure. Just- be careful. He's powerful, probably the most powerful wizard of our age, and well respected."

"You don't have to get involved." Haven told him, "I won't mind if you don't."

"No, I'll help you. I don't know what all I can do, but… he wasn't the one who watched you cry." Neville replied. He looked so determined to help that it warmed her heart.

"You're the best friend ever." she told him, "Thank you."

He looked a bit uncomfortable, staring at his feet, "Uh… well, we should probably go talk to Fred and George."

She nodded, "Right. Let's go."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Don't forget, ask your questions of the characters, they won't be sticking around past this chapter!**


	29. Chapter 29: Letters

**Now that everyone has come to the general consensus that Dumbledore sucks... Well. Hi. The characters have all taken their leave, leaving the review answering in my hands once more.**

 **Current Ages of Winchester Siblings:**

 **Dean is 13**

 **Haven is 11**

 **Sam is 9**

 **With that, I own the same amount that I've ever owned. Also enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Letters**

 _To Bobby Singer:_

 _We send this letter on behalf of our friend, Haven Winchester. She had recently discovered that all mail she has sent to the Winchesters has been intercepted and blocked, so she has decided to take measures to get her letters through to them. To that effect, all mail to you and the Winchesters from her will come from us, and will all be sent to you, if you're willing. Enclosed are letters from her to you, Dean, and Sam._

 _If we write in the future, don't be surprised if we call Haven Alex. She's known in our world as Alexandrite Potter._

 _Thank you for your time._

 _Fred and George Weasley_

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Bobby,_

 _Sorry about all of this, I hope you didn't shoot that poor owl. As Fred and George probably said, these measures have been made necessary as I've recently discovered that a man named Albus Dumbledore has been blocking all of my mail, and has to power to keep me from coming back home for the next seven years. There's little I can do, unfortunately, but hopefully this works._

 _A lot has happened since I last saw you. I'm not sure how much dad or my brothers told you, but I'm a witch. Not the kind that makes demon deals or anything, but instead the kind that is born with the power. My parents also had magic._

 _I'll send you some books on this world if you reply. Magic here's actually pretty interesting, I've learned loads, though the society is a bit out-of-date as far as technology goes. And by that, I mean a lot, since magic does all the things made possible by technology._

 _I really hope this makes it to you. I need to hear from you guys pretty badly._

 _Haven_

* * *

 _Dear Sammy,_

 _I'm so, so sorry that you haven't gotten any letters at all this year. Uncle Bobby's probably explained that someone's been blocking all of my mail this year._

 _There's so much to tell you, I almost don't know where to begin._

 _Well, I'm famous here, known as the girl-who-lived. My parents were murdered by a dark wizard named Voldemort, and when he tried to kill me for some reason I didn't die (I was probably too stubborn, to be honest. At least, that's what Zacharias keeps telling me). He was hurt pretty bad, reduced to a shade, but he's trying to come back. I'll get back to that, it's a long story and I'd like to talk about a few other things._

 _I'll send you some books on the magical world once I know that you're getting this. My parents were rich, and I've inherited their fortune, which is kept in the wizard's bank, Gringotts._

 _The school I go to is a castle. It's huge, but very cold in the winter, as they don't have heating systems apart from fireplaces. My classes include Herbology, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Potions. The books I send will do a better job of explaining them than I can._

 _With this letter is a picture (pictures move here, it's so cool!). The picture is of me and the friends I've made here. Ignore the robes- they're the stupid uniform for this school, you eventually get used to them. The one next to me, brown hair and brown eyes, is my best friend, Neville. He's amazing at Herbology, he knows plants very well. He's quiet, and kind, and very understanding. The really tall boy, probably laughing, is Michelangelo. His actual name is Dean Thomas, but it got too confusing so now we call him Michelangelo. He's an artist, and pretty funny. The girl with the bushy hair is Hermione. She's really smart, likes books and such. She can be a bit bossy at times, and she's a muggleborn, as is Michelangelo, so they get all of my non-magical references. Muggleborn is a term for people born into non-magical families. The red-headed identical twins are older by two years, and master pranksters. Their names are Fred and George. They'd give Dean a run for his money. They know more about the castle than anyone else, and can find you anyone you ask them to. I still don't know how, but I'll find out eventually. The blonde with the yellow and black tie is Zacharias, who's an arrogant grump, but a softie at heart (don't ever tell him I said that)._

 _Well, as you've probably expected, my luck attracted the worst sort of danger in a school that is warded to the rooftops. There was this thing, the Philosopher's Stone, made by Nicholas Flamel. It had the power to turn metal to gold and prolong your life. And they chose to guard it here, at the school. As you can guess, as soon as someone found out they came after it, though for some reason it was only one person. I don't see how only a couple of kids and the professors who were told about it would know, but there you go. One of the professors, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was trying to steal it, though Michelangelo and Hermione's theory was for Snape, the Potions Master. He absolutely hates me, and the feeling is mutual, so he seemed likely._

 _Anyway, so Fred and George run in one day, telling all of us that Quirrell (the Defense teacher) was in the process of stealing the Stone. Naturally, we were all shocked, especially because Headmaster Dumbledore had been away and we doubted anyone else would believe us. Zacharias went for Snape's help, while Fred and George guarded the entrance and got in contact with Dumbledore. The rest of us went after Quirrell to stall him._

 _That went as well as you might expect. Only Neville and I made it to the end, where Quirrell and the Stone was. Turns out, Quirrell was working for Voldemort, the man who killed my birth parents. The guy was literally growing out of the back of his head, and had no nose. It was quite amusing, though I don't think Neville appreciated my amusement at the time. Anyway, so I give the Stone to Neville and push him to the door to get him to run. He hits the ground and his magic literally explodes. Nearly killed him, too. It did, in fact, kill Quirrell, though I'm not optimistic enough to think that Voldemort's gone too. The Stone was destroyed in the explosion._

 _I've really missed you, you know. Sometimes I regret leaving at all. Magic is wonderful, and so are my friends, but I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. It'll be years, at least, because someone with political power I can't hope of matching yet thinks you guys are dangerous and wants me safe here. Like I'd ever be safe anywhere, but no convincing anyone of that._

 _Your late birthday present will be sent when I know you're getting this._

 _Haven_

* * *

 _Dear Dean,_

 _I'm sorry. I should never have left, you were right. Now I'm trapped here, no way to get back, at least not now. I left, so quickly, so trusting, to protect the two of you. But sometimes, I wonder if I wasn't just… scared. You have to understand… dad pointed a gun at me, Dean. Called me a monster, looked at me like he hated me, like I'd never meant a thing to him, like I was a threat to you and Sam. I was so, so scared. I was terrified that as soon as the two of you turned your backs, he'd point the gun at me again, except this time he'd shoot. I still have nightmares about that day, sometimes, when I don't have nightmares of something terrible happening to you and Sam because I'm not there. I'm scared that the real reason I left, or at least part of it, was only because I wanted to run away._

 _It's been really, really hard without you and Sam. I made friends, I learned things, but you are family. And now some guy with the political power to do so has stopped all of my letters from getting to you, and won't let me back. I know it sounds weird, but weirder things have happened this year._

 _My birth parents were murdered by a dark wizard. He tried to kill me, but for some reason it didn't work, and I was left with the scar on my head. And the worst part is that he isn't dead, and he's trying to regain his power. He tried this year, luckily Neville and I managed to stop him, though it was mostly Neville doing the actual stopping._

 _Neville's one of the friends I made here. I've told him so much about you, and I'd love for the two of you to meet._

 _If I can ever come home. God, I hope so. I'm trying to find a way to undermine Dumbledore's political authority, but I don't know enough about the politics in the Wizarding World yet._

 _But nothing can keep a Winchester from family forever, right? That's what I keep telling myself, at any rate._

 _Haven_

* * *

 _Dear Haven,_

 _Hi! I've missed you so much! I was so surprised when Uncle Bobby told us that you'd sent us some letters, and why we hadn't heard from you. I hope I can meet your friends, whenever you can come back. They all seem pretty cool. Did you grow any taller? I grew a few inches over the year, maybe one day I'll be as tall as you, or maybe even dad._

 _I did a little research on Nicholas Flamel, and I found out all sorts of interesting things. I can't wait to see those books of yours, it'll be fascinating learning more about magic._

 _You don't have any normal subjects, like math or english? That's odd. I suppose History of Magic counts, but that would be weird. Does that mean you won't ever graduate from school, the non magical kind, at any rate?_

 _So can people's magic just randomly explode? That sounds pretty dangerous. I thought you guys were going to that school to stop that. At least that Stone was destroyed, it doesn't seem like a good thing to have available to anyone who wants it._

 _Well, you know more about your past, now. That's a good thing. What have you heard about your parents? Anything interesting? Do you have any relatives there?_

 _Not to much has happened with us. Dad's still mad, so is Dean, but I think he just misses you. The only thing that happened was that me and Dean got kidnapped, but we managed to get out. At least we got an awesome thanksgiving dinner._

 _Sam_

* * *

 _Zacharias,_

 _I need to know everything you know about Dumbledore. What positions does he hold, and what do each of them mean- job description, power he gets from them, everything. What political parties are there, and which does he belong to? Who's in his pocket, who is a rival of his?_

 _Before you get all worked up, I'm not doing anything right now. I'm not being stupid. I'm just feeling the situation out._

 _Thank you for the assistance,_

 _Haven Winchester… fine, Alexandrite Potter_

* * *

 _Alexandrite,_

 _I really hope you know what you're doing with all of this. I have no idea why you are asking this, but it hardly seems to be for any educational purpose._

 _As you know, he's Headmaster at Hogwarts, which gives him a measure of control over nearly all of the children in the region. He's been Headmaster for a number of years, so many adults went to school under his influence, and all those before that had him as their Transfiguration Professor. He is also the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, so he basically functions as their head. The organization is comprised of influential wizards from all over the world. Its main concerns are international affairs, including enforcing peace, cooperation, and security. They have some measure of power over individual Wizarding Governments, especially in times of crisis, but that power is limited. In addition, he holds the position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I hope you are aware that they oversee all court procedures._

 _As for political factions, they've come to be named after the three 'shades' or 'types' of magic, as families traditionally carrying those types of magic will generally flock to that party. Light, Neutral, and Dark. Dumbledore functions as the leader of the Light, a party that includes the Longbottoms, Weasleys, and also your family. He currently serves on the Wizengamot in your stead, since you are not old enough and you have no other surviving family members. The Neutral party has been known to side with and against him, so they are generally the deciding votes. My family is part of it, and it is led by the Greengrass patriarch. The Dark is basically your traditionalists, and many of Voldemort's supporters came from there so its popularity has taken several beatings. They are traditionally led by the Blacks, but as that family has been reduced to nothing due to the war, it is now led by Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. A few of their main supporters are the Parkinsons and the Notts._

 _Most of the Light families are so far in Dumbledore's pocket I'm surprised they ever see daylight. The Neutral families may vote for him, but they all have their own minds._

 _I really hope you know what you're doing. Promise me you'll at least warn me and tell me what's going on before you get yourself into trouble?_

 _Zacharias Smith_

* * *

 _Haven, I'm scared. Some weird things have been happening, and I really need your help. I think I might know what happened… but it's even more terrifying than having no clue was._

 _Please come as soon as possible. I'll explain it when you get here._

 _Neville_

* * *

 **Yay! Letters are getting through! XD**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	30. Chapter 30: So Afraid

**I have been so excited for this chapter since the confrontation with Quirrell.**

 **So, since we're coming up on 300 reviews, I thought I'd prepare a little treat for you guys, because I'm nice. I've seen quite a few mentions of pairings, you see. However, I don't expect to start really expanding the pairings I have planned for quite a long while, so...**

 **Instead, I've decided I'd be willing to write an AU one-shot companion (in which no spoilers will be given because it'll be the ideal outcome future... probably) to Not a Dream that features any pairing the majority of you want to see. I'll be creating a poll on my profile next week, but now I thought I'd give you a heads up, and make sure that I give adequate options on the poll. Any character that has been introduced so far can be included (that means Sam, Dean, and also Blaise, even if he isn't part of the main group). Also don't forget that Michelangelo and Hermione exist. If you know of any pairings that you don't see in the following list that you would vote for, feel free to pm me. So far the options are:**

 **Haven X Fred X George**

 **Haven X Fred**

 **Haven X George**

 **Haven X Neville**

 **Haven X Zacharias**

 **Haven X Draco**

 **Draco X Blaise**

 **Neville X Draco**

 **Neville X Zacharias**

 **With that, let us read the chapter! I do not own a thing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 30: So Afraid**

At the arrival of Neville's letter, Haven quickly arranged for a visit to his Manor, curious and worried for her friend. She'd been spending almost all of her time with the twins, as Ginny could hardly hold a conversation with her, and she hardly knew Ron or Percy.

When she arrived, Neville's grandmother led her to one of the many rooms of the manor, this one out of the way from the main building. She hadn't really explored this section when she'd been visiting for Christmas, so she was slightly unfamiliar with her surroundings. The old woman's face was worried and grim as she opened a door, gesturing for Haven to enter.

"Haven!" Neville exclaimed as soon as he saw her, jumping up from his position of the couch, "Thank Merlin you're here."

Neville gave her a quick hug, before stepping back. He appeared to be the picture of health, much better than he'd looked after the confrontation with Quirrell, though his eyes showed the worry that plagued him. The room around them was a mess. The windows had been boarded up to cover several cracks and places they had shattered. Nearly all of the furniture was overturned and broken, and parts of the walls and floors were cracked and uneven. The pillows and blankets used to decorate the couches had been ripped to shreds, strewn about the room.

"What's going on? What happened in here? It looks like a tornado came through." Haven asked, taking in the destruction.

Neville sighed wearily, "Just… watch this, and don't freak out."

He grabbed a potted plant sitting on the one couch still mostly intact, sitting it on his lap as the pair took their places on the couch. He grabbed the knife she'd given him in one unsteady hand.

She realized what he was about to do a second before he did.

"Neville, what are you doing?!" she demanded as the boy cut his finger with the knife, holding it over the flowering plant. Haven made to take the knife from him, but Neville shook his head.

"Just watch." he told her, a drop of blood falling from his cut finger. The instant his blood touched the plant, it began growing like crazy, in seconds growing several inches and the flowers going full bloom and brightening to an almost impossible color. He drew his hand back, and Haven watched as the skin began to knit itself back together, quickly turning into pink new skin, then disappearing altogether.

"So… I take it that that's not normal." Haven commented slowly, staring at the plant.

He shook his head, "No, it's not. That's not all. All of this," he motioned to the destruction around him, "It was me. My magic's been out of control, ever since Quirrell. And it's getting worse. I'm afraid… I'm afraid I'll hurt someone. And that's not the worst part."

"So what is?" Haven prompted, "You said in your letter you thought you knew why?"

Neville nodded miserably, "I think- what do you know about magical artifacts, in terms of how it affects the magic of a witch or wizard?"

"Not much," she admitted.

"Well, in rare cases, depending on the compatibility of the magic and the power of the artifact itself… I don't think I destroyed the Stone." he said, absently rubbing his wrist, "I think… I think I _absorbed_ it."

She blinked like an idiot for several long seconds, eventually saying, "What."

"Things like this have happened before, they're just really rare. And it would make sense. The Stone being destroyed in a magical explosion doesn't make much sense, it's much too powerful to be destroyed by whatever magic I might have. When I fell, I might have scraped my hand, and I know I broke my wrist. Any kind of contact with my blood would have done it, if I was compatable. And apparently, I was." Neville paused with a grim sort of half-smile, before looking up at Haven, a sudden frantic look taking over his expression.

"Haven, I'm scared. Can you imagine what will happen if anyone finds out? Anyone would want access to the powers of the Stone. I'm _defenseless,_ anyone can just take me and use my blood to make themselves immortal, or force me to make them heaps of gold. _Anyone._ "

"You're not defenseless." Haven argued, "You got a power boost, all you'd have to do is explode anyone who comes after you. Besides, you'd give them those puppy eyes and they'd give you back with a promise to start ten charities. If they can do the impossible and ignore the puppy eyes, Zacharias will be his arrogant 'I'm above all of you heathens, and you are all so beneath my notice that I wouldn't be talking to you had you not decided to be suicidal idiots' self. Hermione will be listing off all of the moral ambiguities and all the rules they broke so fast I want to make her shut up and she hasn't even started. Fred and George will prank them so hard they won't ever see straight again, and then they'll probably destroy everything on their way out. Michelangelo can get you out while they're distracted."

Neville gave a small, uncertain smile, "I know but... Gran is considering taking me to St. Mungo's, and if I go there people will find out. I don't want anyone to find out. But I can't control it, I can hurt someone, I could hurt you."

"Alright. So we teach you how to control the power." Haven said decisively, "I'll do some research. Oh! I have an idea, I'll be right back!"

With that, she sprinted out of the room, looking for Neville's grandmother. It didn't take long to find the woman, reading a book in one of the other sitting rooms nearby, close enough to hear if an explosion or some sort occurred. She looked up when Haven entered.

"Excuse me, Ma'am? I think I have an idea on how to help…" she paused, wondering how to phrase it, "his, ah- problem. I was reading, somewhere, that having a wand that's made custom for you can help you keep a hold on your magic, and he has his father's, right?"

His grandmother nodded, and Haven continued, "I don't doubt it's a good wand, but maybe, if you look, there might be one more suited to him that might help some. Every little bit can go a long way, after all, in this sort of situation."

She breathed a sigh of relief when his grandmother actually appeared to be considering her idea.

"Thank you!" Haven said, waving, before running back to the room Neville was being kept in.

"What did you do?" Neville asked suspiciously as he took in her expression, "You look very pleased with yourself."

"I am!" the raven-haired girl replied excitedly, "I may have just gotten you a new wand. No guarantees, but I've read that a wand made for you helps with control. Of course, we'll have to find other ways to help with control, because I doubt the wand is going to do all that much. If we can get your magic under control, I have a feeling you may end up at the top of some of the practical areas of class."

Haven looked around at the thorough destruction of the room, smiling, before grabbing Neville's wrist, "Come on, let's go see what your library has, and then we can start seeing what we can do about this. Does that sound okay? I'll have to leave this afternoon, of course, but we should get a good way through the research, and I can find some books when I go to Diagon Alley next. I'll tell you about anything I find. Oh! I think I read something about some sort of magical meditation, I'll have to go see if I can find it again-" she stopped, taking in his expression, "What else is it?"

Neville frowned sadly, "One of the plants in my greenhouse went missing, too."

Haven had to resist the urge to giggle at his expression, "That's terrible. How could it have been moved? Does your grandmother know anything?"

Neville shrugged.

"Well, we'll look for it once we've done some research, okay?" Haven replied, "Come on, let's go."

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

Draco was pacing. Which, given, was something he tended to do often when worried, which, coincidentally, was a state of being he'd been within quite a bit recently. This time, it was a bit more than your general brand of worried, or even his general brand of worried. His father had recently warned him that this year the Heir of Slytherin would open the Chamber of Secrets, and the monster within would 'purify' the school of muggleborns. Therefore, there'd be a mass-slaughter of sharp minds, a waste if you asked Draco. Though he did wonder exactly how his father knew this would be happening, but the man made it his business to be nosy. If there was one thing Draco couldn't fault him for, it was his skill at having the right people in his pocket, whispering secrets into his ear.

Not only was Thomas, or Michelangelo, going to be a target, but Potter would be unable to keep to herself and would just _have_ to investigate, idiot Gryffindor that she was. This course of action would only lead to the death of her and all of her friends who would hardly let her work alone. Including Neville, and that repulsive Smith had not been wrong when he'd pointed out that everything passed conveniently by the Potter girl and headed straight for Neville, who would stick to her side no matter the danger. That was something that Draco couldn't allow to happen if he could help it. There had to be some way to convince her to stay out of it, to warn her. That way she and Neville, and even Smith would be kept safe, as they had magical heritage to protect them. He would look into it, quietly, but he doubted he could stop it. His father had been much too confident that it would not be stopped that Draco doubted any adult would be able to stop it, either. It would be slaughter, but what could he do?

He'd work on it with Blaise, of course, but for now, he needed to ensure Potter would stay out of the way. He couldn't send an owl, and couldn't personally say anything- she'd never listen to a word he said, the contrary idiot that she was. So how could Draco do it?

It hit him out of the blue, stopping his restless pacing in its tracks, "Of _course!_ Why haven't I thought of this before? Dobby!"

The house-elf popped into the air in front of Draco. "Master Draco called Dobby?"

"Yes. I have a task for you, and my father cannot know… nor can my mother, to be safe. In fact, never speak of what you are going to do to anyone." Draco said, "Can you do that?"

Dobby nodded cautiously, obviously curious.

"It isn't anything particularly hard. I need you to warn Alexandrite Potter that something bad is going to happen at Hogwarts this year, and she _cannot,_ under any circumstances, interfere. She will be safe if she stays out of it, and you must not leave until she agrees. Oh, and make sure to talk to her when she's alone. Can you do that?" Draco whispered, watching the door of his room cautiously. He didn't want his father to know, he'd probably get in heaps of trouble for it.

Dobby nodded, eager, "Dobby would be most honored to warn the great Alexandrite Potter to stay out of danger, Master Draco, sir!"

"Thank you." Draco said, "Be quick, father will find out if you don't come back quickly."

The elf nodded, before popping out of the room, probably to wherever Potter was staying for the summer.

And now Draco just had to figure out what to do about the Chamber of Secrets situation, if anything could be done by a second year. He resumed pacing, wracking his brain on possible solutions and plans.

"Draco!" his father called.

Draco huffed. Of course the man had to interrupt his pacing, couldn't just leave him to it. And he was actually starting to get into a good planning mindset. Perhaps he should make a list of what he knew and the pros and cons of all possible solutions. It would be easier with Blaise to help him, as the boy was a good person to bounce ideas off of.

Well, his father wasn't a patient man. Might as well go see what he wanted.

"Yes, father?" he asked, arriving at his father's study.

"I've heard that the Potter girl was put on the Quidditch team for her House. Is this true?" the man asked.

What? Why was that even important enough to interrupt his thinking?

"Yes."

Lucius continued, "Well, this can't be allowed. She can't be better than you, I'll get you on the team."

Wait, _what?! Why?_ Sure, flying was fun, but get him on the team because of _Potter?_ Ugh, and he wouldn't have even earned it, because getting him onto the team would involve money changing hands, he knew without a doubt.

"Of course." Draco replied, no trace of his frustration on his face. What a waste of time, he had more important things to worry about, namely what he was going to do about this Chamber business. Now all of his time would be taken up by this.

The things he did for his father.

* * *

 **Dean's POV**

Dean stared at the unopened letter in his hands, another one laying innocently on the table beside him. Sam had fallen asleep hours ago, leaving Dean to brood alone.

A letter from Haven. How did something that should sound so good sound so terrifying? He didn't _want_ to open the letter, but at the same time he really did. Unable to decide what to do about them, he'd been carrying them around in his pocket since the day they'd arrived. He didn't want to know that she'd replaced her family with other people. He didn't want to hear about what she'd learned. He didn't want to hear about the adventures she'd gotten into without him. He refused to listen when Sam started going on about all she'd told him, about the interesting things he'd learned in those books she'd sent.

He didn't want to hear about how Haven was leaving them behind. However, he couldn't destroy the letter no matter how hard he tried. He missed her, despite how much he hated that she'd left him. Family stuck together. Family didn't abandon family at first opportunity.

Dean shoved the letters back in his pocket.

* * *

 **Thank you so much Kageneko Ruler for the idea with the Stone. I loved the idea, and I've run with it so far that even you might be surprised by the outcome.**

 **Thank you so much for reading, see you next week, my loves!**


	31. Chapter 31: You're Quite the Problem

**Salutations! So I took in all of your other suggestions and have actually created the poll on my profile for the little one-shot companions for you guys. Three votes maximum, have fun with that.**

 **So, yeah. I own nothing at all, I promise.**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: You're Quite the Problem**

Haven stared at yet another piece of blank parchment, quill poised to write just above it. She glanced around the room she shared with Ginny, taking in the pile of discarded bits of parchment that emphasized the problem she was having.

She took in a deep breath, steeling her nerves once more, and began to write.

 _Dear dad,_

 _It's been nearly a year since I've last seen you, hasn't it? I've already sent letters to Dean and Sam, and I know I really should have sent some to you but I just haven't had any words that seemed right._

 _What is there to say, dad?_

With a growl of frustration, she tossed it to the side like the others. Once the parchment was out of the way, she threw the quill away from her before her face fell into her hands.

She didn't know what she could say to him. She was scared of how he would respond. Terrified, even. Could he still hate her, still wish her dead, even after all this time? Haven wasn't sure she wanted to know.

After all, Dean hadn't even bothered to respond to her yet. She was getting letters from Uncle Bobby and Sam, but not from Dean. If Dean didn't respond, then what hope could she have of John Winchester ever responding, or at least in any way that is positive?

Haven just had so much she had to do, it was almost too much. In addition to worrying about Dean's silence, and how she would ever write a letter to her father she had so much more. She'd promised to help Neville, and they'd only made a little progress since then. She knew it would take time, but she worried for Neville. It might help calm him (which would greatly help control) if they could find that plant of his that had gone missing, but it might as well have dropped off the face of the earth. In addition, there was also the mystery of the House Elf who'd visited her. Who had sent it, and why did it know danger would be at Hogwarts? She'd managed to discover that Voldemort wasn't behind the plot, though it seemed to have something to do with him.

The House Elf had made her swear not to interfere in the mysterious plot at Hogwarts, but she was a Hunter. How was she supposed to let people get hurt when she had the knowledge that could save them? It was her job to protect people. It didn't occur to her that she was a kid who was expected to leave the fighting to adults.

Finally, Haven sighed, picking up her thrown quill and grabbing another piece of parchment. She thought over what she could write, but could think of very little. Eventually she took a deep breath, and began to write once more.

 _Dear dad,_

 _I miss you_

 _Haven_

She left it at that, unable to think of anything better to say. Haven quickly went to Fred and George so they could send it to Uncle Bobby. Afterwards, it was time for breakfast, so she joined the rest of the Weasleys in making their way down to the dining room.

"Goodmorning." she said as she entered the room. At the sound of her voice, Ginny jumped, nearly knocking over her bowl of porridge. She'd gotten better about her nervousness around Haven, thankfully, but the girl still reacted badly when Haven surprised her. The young Hunter really just wished the redhead would get over it soon. It was hard to talk to someone who blushed constantly and looked at you like you were some sort of hero, just because you'd survived the killing curse by some fluke.

"Goodmorning, dear." Mrs. Weasley said, walking over and setting a plate of food in front of her with a warm smile. Haven may not much care for how she treated Fred and George at times (though she did make an effort to find ways to praise them for their skill, too), but overall the woman was a good person. She'd welcomed Haven in without knowing the situation, only that she needed a place to stay. Sure, Haven would love to hate the woman simply due to the fact that Haven was forced to stay here when she could be with her family, but she found she simply couldn't hate the Weasleys. A few questions had revealed the the Weasleys knew nothing about the real situation- they'd taken her in without question.

Haven got along with Mr. Weasley fairly well, also. He was fascinated by muggles, especially Hunters, who had no magic and yet still found a way to protect people from magical creatures that could kill them easily. She tried not to get too annoyed by his constant questions, instead reminding herself that him taking an interest in muggles and Hunters could be a good thing for wizards. If more people found out exactly what muggles were like and what they'd done, it might do something good for the society at large.

Haven was friendly with both Ron and Percy, but she couldn't see herself becoming close to either. Ron had a tendency to miss certain emotional cues and to be very rude (neither of which was really that big of a deal, except something about him just seemed a little- too Dean, yet not enough?). Besides the fact, Zacharias would tear him to bits, she just knew it. Percy was alright if you wanted help with school work and such, but his pompous attitude could get grating, not to mention the fact that he didn't seem to much like the twins, and his distrust of them (he had, after all, been the victim of many a prank) seemed to transfer over to Haven once he'd learned that the twins had claimed her as their apprentice in all things mayhem.

"You've all got letters from school." Mr. Weasley announced as he accepted several envelopes from an owl. He quickly passed them out to everyone, and soon the room was filled with the sound of ripping parchment.

Haven eyed the booklist warily. Who was this Gilderoy Lockhart fellow? And why was the school requesting she get textbooks that sounded suspiciously like fiction books? She wasn't taking a literature class in Hogwarts- no, she'd had to get Sam to send her some material from his own school so she could attempt to try and catch up. He might have been younger than her, but he'd tried to get slightly more advanced stuff, but it was mostly review.

Fred leaned over to look at Haven's booklist, saying, "You've been told to get all of Lockhart's books, too! The new Defense teacher must be a fan- bet it's a witch."

She had no clue why the teacher would have to be a witch, but figured it would make sense once she actually got her hands on the books.

"That lot won't come cheap," remarked George with a slightly worried look, shooting glances at his parents, "Lockhart's books are really expensive…"

"Well, we'll manage." said Mrs. Weasley, mirroring George's worried expression nearly perfectly, "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

"You are starting Hogwarts this year, aren't you?" Haven commented to Ginny, "That's awesome."

Ginny nodded, going a little pink. Haven frowned a little. Hopefully soon the girl would become more comfortable with her. She turned back to the other Weasleys, each one looking worried about the things they'd have to get for school. Haven wished she could help, but she knew the Weasleys had their pride. She'd tried to offer some money that she had to pay for her own expenses, but Mrs. Weasley had been very clear that she wouldn't have a child pay any of her own living expenses under her roof.

"We'll go and get all of this tomorrow, I think." Mrs. Weasley announced, beginning to clear the table, "What're you all up to today?"

"We're going flying." Ron answered, motioning to the twins, Ginny, and Haven. Percy didn't want to join them, claiming he was far too busy.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred as they walked through the grass, "He's not himself. He got twelve O.W.L.s and he hasn't gloated at all. Not even a little bit. It's very unlike him."

"Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame." George added.

Haven rolled her eyes, giving George a little shove, "You could at least _pretend_ to be a little happy for him for doing so well. Intelligence and test scores can have their uses."

"But tests are _boring."_ Fred whined at her. "They make me feel all faint."

"You two are hopeless" Haven commented with a fond pat of Fred's shoulder.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," commented George, changing the subject. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…"

Fred moved closer to George, arm brushing against his to offer silent comfort. Haven smiled seeing the interaction- it reminded her of how Dean and Sam could act at times.

The next day saw them leaving the Burrow bright and early. Haven had already been awake, running laps outside as dawn's light spread across the sky. They visited Gringotts first, going to both the Weasley's vault and Haven's. The Hunter felt sick at the tiny bit of money left in the vault, all of which was scooped up by Mrs. Weasley. She knew what it was like to have so little, to worry about how they were going to make it last until dad came back home. The only reason Sam had never gone hungry was because while Dean wasn't much a fan of math, he sure knew how to work a budget. He'd taught Haven the same skills, but she didn't have a mind for it like he did.

As soon as they left Gringotts, Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to a secondhand robes shop. Ron and Mr. Weasley headed to Quality Quidditch supplies, while Percy went off on his own. Haven followed the twins into Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, where they met Lee Jordan. The twins wanted to stock up on fireworks and show Haven around. Haven bought a few promising things from the shop in preparation for next year's prank crusade.

As soon as they finished in the joke shop, they headed to Flourish and Blotts, where Ron had said the others were waiting. A huge crowd was jostling outside the doors.

As Haven took in the sign that announced that Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing books, she began to get a very bad feeling. The three pushed through the crowd that seemed to be made primarily of witches, trying to get to the other Weasleys and get their books.

"Oh, there you three are." Mrs. Weasley said as they approached. "We'll be able to see him in a minute."

When she finally did get to see the Lockhart guy, she wished she hadn't. She'd never seen a man look so much like Barbie as he did. He was surrounded by photos of himself, each one winking and smiling to show teeth that were much too white to be natural. The man was wearing robes to match the shade of his _eyes._ She was officially disturbed.

A short, irritable man (she didn't blame him- she'd be irritable if she had to look at the man so long) was fluttering about and taking pictures. The camera he held emitted puffs of purple smoke with every flash.

"Out of the way, there." the man snarled at George, moving back to get a better shot, "This is for the _Daily Prophet-"_

"Oi, that's my brother you're talking too." Fred replied, stepping closer in an unconscious display of male dominance that mirrored something Dean might do if someone had done the same to Sam.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard the words. He looked up, eyes finding Fred, then Haven, who was standing next to him with eyebrows raised in amusement. The man stared for several long moments, before he stood up.

Then, he just _had_ to shout, "It _can't_ be Alexandrite Potter?"

The instant the words were said, the crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart dived forward, seizing her arm.

Mistake.

She didn't even realize what she was doing at first, instincts kicking in the moment he touched her and began to pull her. She was suddenly in motion, throwing the larger man across the room, into a pile of books.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, "You surprised me."

She hadn't exactly _meant_ to throw him, besides, she doubted the man meant any harm. It would probably be too likely to ruin his perfect nails or something.

"It's quite alright." said Lockhart breathlessly as he hauled himself up, fixing his robes and hair. He darted over, posing beside Haven as the photographer began to take pictures.

Haven attempted to step away from the man, "Um, excuse me, but I don't do photos-"

"Nice big smile, Alexandrite," interrupted Lockhart, "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

"Let _go."_ she said, pulling away, "I'll only tell you once."

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced loudly, waving for quiet even as Haven attempted to tug away again, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me-"

As he pulled her back to him again, the twins swooped over, picking her up even as she prepared herself to start screaming bloody murder about this mysterious man she'd never met _attacking_ her like that. She was quickly hidden within the crowd once more.

"Thank God," Haven gasped as the twins put her down, "That was a _nightmare-"_

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" drawled the familiar voice that she recognized as belonging to Malfoy. His voice was slightly sarcastic as he said the words, knowing from the time they'd spent as friends that she very much did not like situations such as that.

" _Famous_ Potter." said Malfoy, "How does it feel, not being able to so much as enter a _bookstore_ without making the front page?"

The twins glared as Haven crossed her arms, replying, "Probably not anything like how it'll feel when I punch you in the face."

"No need for such _barbaric_ actions, Potter. There's a camera nearby, do you want the world to know you punch a _poor, defenseless classmate?"_ Malfoy drawled.

George interrupted the conversation, him and Fred stepping forward and a little in front of her in a protective sort of move, "Leave her alone."

"Or what? Are Weasleys resorting to such uncivilized methods of fighting, too? It wouldn't surprise me." Malfoy replied.

"Boys!" Mr. Weasley called, struggling over to them, Ron and Ginny at his side, "What are you doing? It's much too crowded in here, let's all go outside."

A new voice interjected, "Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley."

It was a man that looked almost exactly like Draco. He approached, his hand coming to his son's shoulder almost possessively as he sneered.

"Lucius." replied Mr. Weasley in a tone Haven had never heard from him before.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," commented Mr. Malfoy, "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He leaned over, taking in the sight of the battered books within Ginny's cauldron. He picked up a few of them, eyeing them with distaste.

"Obviously not." Mr. Malfoy said, "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"You know," Haven interrupted, sensing Mr. Weasley's building temper. While the man was easygoing, he was a redhead- best avoid his temper if at all possible. "Insulting someone's monetary status is something I'd except of uncivilized, uncultured _muggles,_ not an esteemed member of wizarding society such as yourself. I've seen muggles with better manners. I can write a list of names, if you'd like. Hell, my little brother had better manners when he was _three,_ and he's just a regular old muggle Hunter. What does that say about you, begging your pardon, sir?"

Everyone was silent. It dragged on, only interrupted by the twins stifling their laughter at the look on Mr. Malfoy's face.

Mr. Malfoy was radiating anger as he shoved the books at Ginny, "Here, girl- take your books- it's the best your father can give you."

The Malfoys left at that, the younger glaring at the older.

"Look at our little apprentice!" Fred exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her despite her protests, "All grown up and facing down a big, bad Malfoy!"

George, laughing, added, "We're so proud!"

* * *

 **So, Lockhart... yeah. This year'll be fun, huh, guys?**

 **Thank you all for reading, see you next week!**


	32. Chapter 32: Just A Little Bit Crazy

**Well, on the poll so far, it seems Haven X Fred X George is in the lead. I honestly wasn't expecting it, but then again I probably should have. Anyway, you've all got until Sunday 4/30 to vote before that's closed and I actually write it for you. So that's cool.**

 **Also this chapter was fun. Nothing in owned, so read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter 32: Just A Little Bit Crazy**

Term had started again without mishap. The 'bad things to occur at Hogwarts' warning had made her expect a lot more, but it was the same as it had been when she'd been there as a first year, only they had a new bunch of tiny kids to try not to trip over.

Haven had been telling herself she was going to do this. Yet, as she stood in front of the gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office, she wondered if she'd be able to get through it without destroying several of Dumbledore's things.

 _Just smile and get a grip._ She ordered herself, her chin coming up and her hands going behind her back. _Apologize for your behavior at the end of last year and get out of there. It's not that hard._

She knew that this would help her. It wouldn't do to have Dumbledore knowing that she didn't like him if she really wanted to find a way to lessen his power. She didn't know him well enough to be confident that he wouldn't try to stop her. If he thought there wasn't a problem, he wouldn't go looking for any plots from her.

Apologizing for not even doing anything wrong was just an idea that seemed so damn _wrong._ It went against her instincts to smile and pretend when all she wanted to do was tear out that stupid beard of his. She understood the benefits, the why, but it wasn't going to be easy.

She shook her head, before her back snapped straight and she entered the staircase. Better to get this over with than to stand outside, wasting her time.

Haven knocked on the door, opening it when she heard Dumbledore's voice telling her to come in. The instant she saw the man, a wave of anger rose up, but she forced it back down all the while faking a smile.

"Um, hello, sir." she said, "Can I speak with you really quickly?"

Dumbledore, obviously curious, sat down and beckoned her to sit, "Certainly, my dear girl. What is it that you want to talk about?"

Haven sat down, "Well, I just wanted to apologize for my atrocious behavior at the end of last year. I understand now, that you were only doing what you thought was best for me. I'm really sorry about yelling at you."

She had to force herself not to gag at her sickly sweet words. Man, she sounded so… _ugh!_ The way Dumbledore smiled in relief was disgusting.

"That's good to hear. I'm sorry my actions hurt you, but I still believe that the Winchesters are dangerous people. Did you enjoy your stay with the Weasleys?"

She nodded eagerly, trying not to puke all over his nice desk at the words coming out of her mouth, "Oh, yes! They're all so nice. But sir, I have homework, so…"

He nodded, understanding, "Of course. Go on, I appreciate you apologizing to me, Alexandrite. It was very good of you."

"Of course, Headmaster. Bye!" with that, she fled the office, nearly falling down the stairs in her haste. Once she had gone far enough, she slumped against the wall, a smile finding its way onto her features. She'd done it! She'd gotten through it without murdering anyone or anything!

She was so caught up in her sense of accomplishment that when a voice interrupted her thoughts, she jumped few feet in the air as the little first year went bright red, "Uh, Alexandrite Potter?"

Haven looked at him. He was clutching a camera in his hands, looking much too excited about running into her in the hall.

"Yes?" she question, apprehensive.

"I- I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think- would it be all right if- can I have a picture?"

She blinked twice, before finally repeating, "A picture?"

 _Oh no…_ she groaned inwardly in horror, _I've got- dear lord- a_ fanboy.

"So I can prove I met you," the small first-year said eagerly, "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead and a boy-"

"Woah, there, slow down." she said once he'd sped up to the point where she literally couldn't understand a word he said.

"Oh, sorry." the boy said, slowing down slightly, "A boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move! I'm taking pictures to send to my dad back home, who's a milkman. It'll be really good if I had a picture of you, and then you could sign it?"

" _Signed photos?_ You're giving out _signed photos,_ Potter?" came the voice of an annoyance. Malfoy whistled, before commenting, "Never thought you'd be the type."

Haven huffed, "Look, I'm not giving out signed photos! Could you go be irritating elsewhere?"

"You're just jealous." Colin added.

" _Jealous?!"_ Malfoy could only be more offended if Colin has said he was Zacharias's clone, "How could I be jealous of her?! She's- She's-"

"Able to finish a sentence, maybe?" Haven replied, crossing her arms over her chest, "You seem to be missing the ability. I'd get that checked out if I were you."

Many in the crowd began to laugh as Malfoy went red.

"I would never be jealous of you! What's there to be jealous of? No family to speak of, not an _ounce_ of diplomacy or forethought-"

"Well, at least _I'm_ not a coward!" Haven shouted, anger building. Neville fought his way through the crowd, quickly stumbling between Haven and Draco.

"Stop it!" Neville exclaimed, "Both of you!"

Malfoy only yelled, "I'm _not_ a coward!"

"Oh really?" Haven said, "I seem to recall-"

"STOP!" Neville shouted, the windows nearby shattering in a wave of energy as the boy cried out, falling to the ground. Instantly, Haven's anger was forgotten as she dived forward, kneeling down beside Neville. He needed to get his power under control, and fast- there were a lot of students nearby, and she really didn't want them getting hurt or seeing to much that made them start having questions. The shattering windows were more than enough to clue them in- not to mention the fact that Neville looked and sounded like he was in pain. His explosions caused him pain, sometimes more, sometimes barely anything, but this appeared to be one of the 'more' days, and Haven would be damned if she let him suffer without doing her best to help. The hovering crowd wasn't helping matters.

In a hushed voice, Haven said, "Neville, calm down. It's alright, are you okay?"

Neville slowly nodded, though he had gone a little pale and his face was twisted from pain. Haven helped him to stand, looking up to see Draco hovering nearby, looking oddly concerned yet unsure. Haven glared at him, but said nothing. Neville was more important- Malfoy could wait his turn, and his turn was considerably down the line in comparison to Neville.

"What's all this, what's all this?" came the voice of Barbie (okay, fine, Lockhart) as he moved through the crowd in hideous turquoise robes.

Colin answered before Haven or Draco could, "I'm just trying to get a signed photo from Alexandrite."

Barbie Lockhart's eyes snapped to Haven, "Well, then, how about a double portrait? You can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it."

"The fuck I will." Haven replied, out of patience for the day, as she wrapped an arm around Neville's shoulder. He was leaning on her quite heavily, a fact that concerned her, "Are you going to be alright to walk, Neville?"

Neville nodded again, tucking his head down and into her arm so no one could see his face. Haven ignored Professor Barbie and the crowd of students as she shoved forcibly through them, leading Neville down a safe path.

"Does it hurt enough to need Madam Pomphrey?" she asked quietly once they'd cleared the crowd.

"I'm fine, Haven, rea-"

Haven interrupted, "Don't lie to me, Neville, I can see it on your face."

"I'll just lie down for a bit, I'll be okay after that." Neville answered quietly.

The young Hunter nodded, "Alright. Let's head for the Common Room. I'll get a book and some blankets and we'll settle in for the afternoon. I'll get the Twins to bring us food- I'm almost positive they know where the kitchens are."

* * *

 **Michelangelo's POV**

Michelangelo's favorite thing about Hogwarts was it's extensive, peaceful grounds. The scenery was breathtaking, always willing to provide inspiration for a quick sketch. If he wanted a little peace and quiet away from the crazy that was his group of friends, all he had to do was go outside for a few hours of silence.

He was currently finishing up a rather good sketch of his group of friends (not including Seamus and Ron, but they were much like a separate group entirely) hanging out at their usual table in the library. The twins were leaning on boths sides of Alex with identical mischievous smirks. Alex was smiling fondly, quill poised over an essay, unconsciously leaning towards Neville, who was sitting on her right with a smile on his face. Hermione was doing some studying, books piled precariously around her. Zacharias was to one side with his arms crossed, shooting unimpressed looks at the others.

Michelangelo looked at the the background, realizing what he'd added without really thinking about it. Draco was watching the group nearby, one book held in his arms. His expression was fairly neutral.

Michelangelo sighed, putting his pencil down. For all that had happened, Draco still was a part of the group. Michelangelo didn't know details, and didn't much care for them, but there was no denying that he'd been important, and that there will still ties there. Michelangelo guessed Neville still kept up a friendship with the boy, even if Alex stubbornly refused and Zacharias had issues with him that no one but the two had ever understood.

He looked up when he realized someone was approaching. It was a little Ravenclaw, a first year. Michelangelo didn't remember her name from her sorting. She had a huge pair of pale blue-grey eyes, much like the sky, and platinum blonde hair. The swayed more than she walked, almost like some sort of dance to a tune only she could hear.

She stopped in front of him, her lips turning up in the corners, "Hello Dean Thomas, or rather Michelangelo. I am Luna Lovegood, and you will ask me out on a date one day."

Luna said these words not as if she wanted it to happen, rather, as if it was irreversible fact and she was rather indifferent about the whole matter. Michelangelo blinks once, then twice, before all the shock vanishes from his face, replaced by a grin as he jumps to his feet.

"Well, if I'm going to ask you out one day, then I might as well get to know you, huh? Come on, you have to meet my friends." Michelangelo said, picking up his sketchbook. "We needed a Ravenclaw in the group anyway, see, because we have all of us Gryffindors, then the Hufflepuff… well, we don't have a Slytherin right now, but honestly I'm just waiting for him and Alex to make up. Especially because Neville's backing the idea and no one can really say no to him when he really wants something, especially not Alex. Really, I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasts, because as soon as Draco comes back Zacharias is going to throw a fit."

"What makes you think so?" asks Luna, falling in step with him as he begins walking back towards the castle.

Michelangelo shrugs, "Well, those two get along together about as well as the Weasley Twins and rules. Which is to say that they absolutely hate each other. I don't really know why, actually."

"I do not believe that they hate each other." Luna replied, absolutely sure of her words despite the fact the Michelangelo was positive she'd never seen them interact, "On the contrary, I believe they actually enjoy each other's company."

Michelangelo considered that for a moment, "You know, actually you might be onto something. You think that their arguments are some sort of weird flirting ritual or something? Well, maybe not. I really don't know with those two."

Whatever. What was, would be.

"Your drawing was very good. May I see them?" Luna asked, motioning to his sketchbook.

"Oh, sure, here." Michelangelo replied, handing the book to the girl. She opened it carefully, taking in the first picture there- a drawing of his little sisters.

"I do some art, but I must confess that I'm not very good yet." the girl informed him, "My art is nothing like this. Who are they?"

"These are my sisters- well, my half-sisters. This is Miranda, she's nine. She's got a temper on her, she hates it when I tease her, which only makes it more fun. That's Jennifer, who's six now. She's a little social butterfly- she walks up and starts conversations with random strangers. Oh, and Adeline's just turned two- she's the youngest and spoiled rotten. I'm her favorite." Michelangelo grinned at that. The only thing he didn't like about Hogwarts was that he was separated from his sisters. For all their faults and fighting, he adored spending time with them.

Luna smiled too, "They sound lovely."

"So you're an only child? Only kids with no siblings think that having three sisters is a good thing. I mean, I love them, but sometimes…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "Anyway, so how are you finding Hogwarts so far? You are in first year, right?"

The girl nodded, "Hogwarts is nice. There are quite a few wrackspurts for my taste, but that's to be expected when you have so many people about. Several Ravenclaws seem to be infested with them. Though it is a most curious thing, several of my things keep disappearing on me."

Michelangelo tilted his head to the side, "Disappearing? Like, being stolen?"

"I suspect nargles." Luna replied in a serious tone.

"Really? What are nargles?" the boy asked curiously.

Luna replied, "They are mischievous creatures. They infest mistletoe and are notorious theives."

"Oh. So I guess we should keep our stuff away from the mistletoe, huh?" Michelangelo commented, opening the door to the entrance hall.

"That would be very wise." Luna replied.

Michelangelo said, "Well, they'll probably all be in the library- that's normally where we all spend time together."

"They're probably there." the Ravenclaw agreed, following Michelangelo as they quickly made their way to the library. Waiting there were Zacharias and Hermione, both working on homework without speaking.

"Where's Alex and Neville? Did the twins kidnap Alex again?" Michelangelo asked, sitting down in his spot and Luna sitting where Draco's old spot used to be.

Hermione shook her head, "Neville's not feeling very well, and Alex is looking after him. I think she's using the Twins as her personal errand boys while she mother hen's Neville."

"Oh." Michelangelo said, deflating a little. "I hope Neville isn't too sick."

Zacharias was staring at Luna, his eyebrows raised, "And who is this?"

"Right! I nearly forgot!" Michelangelo exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, "Guys, this is Luna, a Ravenclaw first year. Luna, this is-"

"Zacharias Smith and Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you." Luna said, before turning her attention solely to Hermione, "Did you know that you've been infested with wrackspurts? You might want to get that fixed."

Hermione looked confused and a little skeptical, "Wrackspurts? Do those even exist? I haven't read about them anywhere."

"Of course they exist." Luna replied. The look on Hermione's face clearly said that she doubted Luna.

"You're a Lovegood, aren't you?" Zacharias asked, twirling his quill in his fingers almost lazily.

Luna nodded, "Yes. Why?"

"It just explains a few things." the Hufflepuff replied, before turning to Michelangelo, "So I assume, since you introduced her to us, that you plan to make her a permanent addition to the group of strays we seem to be amassing?"

Michelangelo shrugged, "Why not?"

* * *

 **Yay for Luna! I have a Luna! So happy now! XD I've been waiting for this, man. Luna and Michelangelo, though. Let's take a moment of silence for this.**


	33. Chapter 33: You Can't Resist Us

**Remember that poll? Well, we ended with a tie between Haven X Neville and Haven X Fred X George. So that's a thing. I didn't want to choose between them so I thought... maybe we could add them together? I started writing it but it isn't ready yet. In the meantime, we have both this chapter and also Terrible Timing, a sandbox where I play with the characters as adults that has nothing to do with the plot. The things that happen in it may or may not actually happen throughout the course of the series. If you're interesting, you can take a look. Otherwise... well, new chapter.**

 **It seems everyone's happy with Luna. She doesn't make an appearance this chapter, unfortunately, but we get a Blaise POV so that's cool.**

 **I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (for the 33rd time...)**

* * *

 **Chapter 33: You Can't Resist Us**

 **Blaise's POV**

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Draco asked, waving a hand in front of his face. Blaise blinked a few moments, coming back to reality.

He shrugged, "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts next."

"I've realized that." Draco commented in a slightly patronizing tone, "What about Defense is so interesting?"

"I have a theory." Blaise replied, his lips twitching into a small smile as Draco began to look more and more impatient. Draco got impatient rather easily, he'd noticed- especially as Blaise learned the best ways in which to do it.

"That's wonderful. I hope your theory has something to do with the _heir_ problem." Draco said. Blaise shook his head.

"I don't have enough information for that yet. Until something happens I'm not sure what we can do about it- stop looking at me like that, I _have_ tried to come up with something. It's pretty hard when you didn't give me any information, you know. All I know is that muggleborns are supposed to be attacked by the Heir- who could honestly be anyone. There's a lot of muggleborns in this school to start with. We have no clue what will attack them either. I don't want people to get hurt, but once they do I'll be able to _know_ more about what we're dealing with." Blaise replied.

Draco sighed, "Yeah, I know. Anyway, back to the previous subject. What is your theory?"

"Oh, that." Blaise paused for a moment, "I'm not sure about it yet, I need to confirm it. Have you read all of Lockhart's books?"

"Yeah, it was a huge waste of time, too." Draco said.

Blaise took a moment to collect his thoughts, before speaking again, choosing his words carefully, "There are several things that just don't add up in those books. Some of the timelines don't make sense if you really look at them, and… I'll have to watch him to confirm it, but I think he might be a fraud- stealing other people's achievements."

Draco stared at him for several long moments. Finally, he just sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead as if he'd developed a migraine.

"Trust _you_ to be the one who looks at a famous wizard and decide all of his achievements are false. Though, you may not be wrong. He looks-and sounds- like he wouldn't fight anything for fear it might ruin his hair." Draco commented in disgust as they reached the door of the classroom. They quickly claimed seats near the back corner (it provided a clear view of everyone in the room). It didn't take long for everyone the arrive, the girls all twittering excitedly to each other. Sure, Lockhart was quite attractive (Blaise had eyes, he could easily admit that), but the girls were just being ridiculous about it.

Lockhart cleared his throat, and the girls fell silent. He picked up _Holidays with Hags_ from Pansy's desk, holding it up to show the winking portrait on the front.

 _Obviously very vain- we're in narcissist territory. Wonderful._ Blaise thought absently, arranging the books on his desk to form a comfortable headrest.

"Me." the blonde Professor said, pointing to his winking portrait and repeating the motion, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award- but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

Only a few of the girls laughed, everyone else stayed completely silent

 _The smile award is the one he's most proud of- probably because that's the only one he actually accomplished on his own, if my theory holds true. Most certainly a narcissist. That speech was carefully rehearsed beforehand, though his tone when mentioning the banshee- slightly nervous._ Blaise noted, filing away the information for later use.

"Good, you've all bought a complete set of my books. We'll start the class off with a little quiz. It isn't anything to worry about- just a check on how well you've read them." He said, beginning to hand out the quiz. Several people looked worried despite his assurances- they hadn't likely read the books beforehand. After every quiz was handed out, Lockhart announced, "You have thirty minutes- you may begin."

Blaise sighed, moving the books to the side as he read the first question: _1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

He just stared at the question. This wasn't a real quiz. Blaise felt insulted.

The boy took a moment, before writing, _I do not see how this question pertains to my education._

Blaise was sure, now- this man was a fraud. He smiled, thinking of what could be done with the information. It was always good to have some blackmail on a famous person, particularly a teacher. You never knew when you might need something from someone. It was always best to be prepared for any eventuality.

On question 3- _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?-_ Blaise had to resist the urge to write _managing to convince the entire wizarding world that you accomplished everything in your books when I'm still wondering how you manage to remember to breathe every day._

Instead, Blaise repeated his answer for question 1 for every single question. He looked over to Draco to notice that his friend was filling his paper with sarcastic answers that were actually quite amusing. According to Draco, Lockhart's greatest achievement was: _managing to get a post as teacher, as any sane individual could see that you have no more brains than a flobberworm._

It took until the 'cornish pixie' incident for Blaise to realize what he was going to use his conclusion for. Obviously it wasn't safe to allow Lockhart to do any sort of demonstration with real creatures. The man couldn't even control _cornish pixies,_ how had he made it through _life?_ Blaise couldn't believe anyone believed all of the stuff in his books. The man was clearly an incompetent fool. Blaise may have to deal with the man as a teacher for a year, but he wouldn't allow the idiot to put his life at risk because he couldn't cast simple spells.

Blaise waited until the end of class, when everyone else had fled and the last of the pixies had finally been returned to the cage.

"Sir? If I could speak with you a moment?" Blaise asked. He'd noticed over the years that the only time his social awkwardness didn't screw up his interactions with other people was when he was in situations such as these. This is what he'd been trained to do all his life, one of the few things that came naturally to him- if there was one thing he could compliment his mother on, it was manipulating others to suit her needs.

"Oh, of course. You're, ah- young Zabini, aren't you?" the Professor asked, straightening up several of his portraits around the room that had been knocked over in the chaos of the Pixie Incident.

"I was just wondering, sir, how you managed it." Blaise replied. At Lockhart's look of confusion, Blaise continued, "See, you managed to fool the entire world into believing you actually did all of those things in your books when you are obviously fairly incompetent at magic. You're a fraud, aren't you?"

Lockhart's shocked face gave him away. He quickly wiped it away, but it was too late as he nervously said, "Oh, no, what makes you say that?"

Blaise noted that the man was reaching for his wand.

"So I am right. Thought so." the Slytherin said, nodding to himself.

Lockhart sighed, pulling out his wand, "I didn't plan on having to do this, but you seem uncommonly sharp. I'm afraid I shall have to ensure you do not remember this."

Blaise smirked, "Memory charms? As interesting as that would be, I'm afraid I must inform you that such a course of action wouldn't work. Despite how incompetent you are, you must have managed to keep this quiet _somehow._ In anticipation of that, I sent letters to several individuals this morning that they have been instructed to open should I not advise them otherwise at a certain time. If I don't remember to send them letters saying not to open them… well, it will end quite badly for you, I'd imagine."

The young Zabini watched as Lockhart's brain processed this information. Blaise was somewhat surprised that Lockhart's head didn't explode from actually being used to think for once about something that required some intelligence.

Maybe he was being unfair. This man had managed to hide the fact that he was a fraud for quite some time. He may have been a narcissist, but he wasn't completely empty-headed, like Crabbe and Goyle.

"So, you understand, don't you? I won't tell, so don't worry about that. I merely wanted to… _advise_ you to refrain from bringing in more live creatures, or doing any other demonstrations of magic- for the safety of the students, of course. That should be relatively easy, don't you agree?" Blaise asked, his tone nothing but polite.

"O- Of course." Lockhart replied, "If that is all, I need to prepare for my next class."

The smirk returned, "I'll leave you to it. I'm glad we managed to come to an understanding, Professor Lockhart."

Waiting outside the classroom was Draco, who raised an eyebrow at him as he began grinning like an idiot.

"I did it! I sounded _so_ cool, too!" Blaise exclaimed happily, bouncing on his toes. Draco rolled his eyes, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"Blaise." Draco said, "You are a mess. And a dork. I don't know why I spend time with you."

* * *

 **Neville's POV**

"I am so _sick_ of this!" Haven hissed, slamming her knife down on the table by their cauldron, "If he doesn't stop tormenting you every Potion's' Class, I'll _make_ him stop!"

"Haven."

Haven continued on as if she hadn't heard him, age building in her voice, "He is supposed to be a _teacher!_ His job is to create an environment in which everyone is able to learn in his class! Why doesn't Dumbledore fire him when he keeps on doing things like this- it's undermining your education! Well, it's Dumbledore- why do I even ask? He probably doesn't even care that no one can learn in here unless they wear green! That's discrimination, plain and simple, and I won't allow it any longer! I am done! _Done!"_

" _Haven!"_

She finally paused, waiting for him to speak.

"I get you're angry, but calm down. He won't listen to you if you just rage at him." Neville said, "I was supposed to chop these, right?"

"Yeah, but you should be angry to. I get it, you're pretty easy going about things like this, but he's jeopardizing your _education,_ and making you feel unsafe in an environment that is supposed to be secure. It's not okay." Haven replied.

Neville sighed, "No, it's not okay. It's not that I'm not angry, either. I just don't show it like you do."

"I know, I know. I just want to _do_ something about it." Haven said, stirring the potion they were in the process of making as it turned royal purple. Neville nodded, understanding. She was a person that always wanted to take action- see a threat, take it down right now before anyone gets hurt. It was just how she worked. Unfortunately, you couldn't always act right away. It's not that she didn't understand that either, Neville thought, but more like she was so used to acting immediately that not doing so… itched.

"I think I'll talk to him after class, ask him why." Haven added, "He seems to hate us, and I want to know why. I know he hates all Gryffindors, but still. It's kinda special in our case."

Neville nodded, but didn't say anything as Professor Snape came over, looking into their cauldron in distaste, preparing to make some sort of snide remark.

Then, an idea occurred to Neville. Everyone was always going on about his 'puppy eyes', about how you'd have to be a monster to refuse them. Neville didn't really understand how a pair of eyes could convince someone of anything, but the others seemed sure. He'd never tried purposefully using them, but he figured that now was as good a time as any.

So he stared at Professor Snape, hoping that 'puppy eyes' could be consciously used to the same effect, "Is there… something wrong, Professor?"

Snape's face went carefully blank. He looked like he was about to say something, before he closed his mouth, turning and walking over to inspect Hermione and Michelangelo's potion.

Haven was stifling a giggle, "Oh. My. _Lord._ Neville, that was- that was _hilarious._ Did you see his face?"

He ducked his head, a small blush staining his cheeks, "I was just trying to see if the 'puppy eyes' you keep going on about actually work."

"Trust me, Nev, they do. I have a little brother with those eyes, so I know what I'm talking about. I'm surprised Snape didn't bow down and apologize for ever upsetting you- though he looked like it took a lot of effort to resist the urge. That man has some serious willpower." Haven commented, grinning at him.

"Oh." Neville replied, "Well, the potion doesn't look too bad this time."

They both shot glances over to Crabbe and Goyle's cauldron, which was emitting a horrid smell and sparks. Nearly everyone else had varying degrees of red, and a cherry smell was beginning to fill the room.

"I love the smell of a potion done right." Haven said, satisfied, before giving Neville a high-five. "We are awesome."

Neville shrugged, "You did most of the work."

"Nope. It was a team effort." Haven remarked, stretching her arms. "I'm going to stay after class to talk to Professor Snape. You don't have to wait for me, you can just go with Hermione and Michelangelo. I shouldn't be long."

"Okay." Neville replied, "Don't be to long, and don't get in trouble."

Haven shrugged, "Trouble is unavoidable when you're a Winchester. However, for you, I will try not to get myself into to much. Hopefully I'll be able to figure out just _why_ he hates us so much."

Neville looked up to Snape, who was sneering down at a potion prepared by Parvati and Lavender. "Good luck."

"... Does Winchester luck count?" Haven asked, following Neville's gaze as Lavender emitted a squeak of fright. The look on the Professor's face would scare off a werewolf.

Neville took a moment to think about it, "No, probably not."

* * *

 **Neville / Haven friendship moments! They're my favorite, though Draco and Blaise are amusing, too. But you can't beat Neville. Him and Zacharias are probably my favorites, honestly, though I love all of my children- just in different ways. XD I hope everyone enjoyed, thank you for reading!**


	34. Chapter 34: What You Don't Know

**This is a bit late, but the Final Fantasy XV fandom sucked me into the vortex as well as finals, so... Any free time I've had has been focused on either Royal Blue or one of the other ideas I made because I hate myself. Eventually I realized my update day had passed and I should probably do the thing.**

 **Yeah, so it's short but I'm happy with it. Enjoy! (I own nothing, yada yada)**

* * *

 **Chapter 34: What You Don't Know**

It was go time. Haven took a deep breath as the students streamed out of the potion's classroom, Neville hesitating by the door before exiting when she waved him ahead.

"Professor Snape? I'd like to talk to you." Haven said, standing up straight with her hands behind her back. She didn't want to make it sound like there was any option for the man to decline, because she knew with certainty that he would given a choice in the matter.

He gave her the look she'd given the most disgusting, dilapidated motel rooms she'd stayed in over her youth. She met his gaze, the thought ' _I am Dean'_ strengthening her resolve.

"Sir, I've allowed this to go on long enough without saying anything." she began, "But I refuse to go on without answers any longer. You hate me, and I want to at least know _why._ And don't say it's because I'm an arrogant jerk who expects the world to be dropped in my lap- you hated me when you first met me, before you could know what I was actually like."

Snape only stared at her, nothing beyond disgust on his face, until his eyes suddenly flicked to the other side of the room as he barked, "Zabini! Get out."

Surprised, Haven turned, seeing one of the Slytherins who had frozen in place in the midst of shoving his book in his bag. She had thought everyone had left, and was shocked she hadn't noticed him before. Then again, he was one of those unassuming people- one of the only Slytherins who didn't stand out. In fact, she wasn't even sure if she'd ever heard his voice, much less him ever engaging in the battles that often occurred between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The raven-haired girl watched curiously as he slowly looked up, noticed she was staring, before his gaze snapped back to his bag. He quickly picked up his belongings, nearly running out of the room.

Haven forced her thoughts back to the task at hand. She could consider the boy- Blaise, right?- at a later time.

She sighed, "Look, sir, I just want to understand what's going on and why you feel the need to jeopardize my education over it. I'm here to learn above everything. I don't need an apology or friendly interaction, I just need us to reach an agreement that allows me to learn- and to be able to do that I need to know what your problem is or this will never be resolved. I could even deal with not being taught in here, honestly. I learn well enough on my own if I have to. The problem is when you also terrorize Neville. I can handle myself, but picking on a kid who's trying his best if just not right. I've known teachers back home who were fired over that kind of thing. Your job is to give us an environment in which we can safely learn. We shouldn't have to deal with bullying from our teacher and feeling like you don't even care if we learn."

Haven stopped, realizing she'd rambled on a little too much due to nerves. She took in another breath, before continuing, "I'm sorry I've made a speech out of it. The moral of the story is I just want you to do your damn job, and I would like to understand why you haven't so far. Sir."

"Language, Potter." snapped Snape, sorting through essays on his desk. "How do you expect me to teach you or that incompetent-"

"Don't call Neville that." Haven barked, fighting hard to push down the anger that rose at anyone insulting Neville, "He might do better if you actually _tried_ to help him. He's not bad, he just lacks confidence and that hardly makes him incompetent."

Snape sneered, "It is not your place to decide-"

"I'm not looking to argue over this, okay?" Haven interrupted, "Can we have a civil conversation? You're an adult, I'm sure you know how."

A stunned expression was quickly replaced by anger, "Get out. Five points from Gryffindor."

Haven huffed, arms crossing, "I'm not asking for much. There's no need to act like a child."

"Get out of my classroom, Potter. Now." his voice was the dangerous kind of quiet. She could hear the fraying control in it.

"You know what, fine!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air, "Act like a little kid, see if I care. I'm sorry I tried to be civil! I see my effort has been wasted."

"Detention."

With that, the young Hunter stormed out of the room, slamming the door on her way out. Once safely alone in the corridor, she yelled in frustration, throwing her bag into the wall. She'd _tried!_ Why wouldn't he just listen? It didn't make any sense! And now she was stuck with detention when she had many better things to do.

* * *

 **Neville's POV**

For the record, yes, he did feel a little bad. He'd left the classroom as Haven had asked, but then quickly made an excuse to Michelangelo and Hermione. This was the first chance he'd gotten this year to talk to Draco, and he couldn't resist the chance, even with the guilty thought that he was keeping this from Haven, when he'd kept nothing else from her.

Surprisingly, he found Blaise first, without Draco.

"You want to talk to Draco?" asked the boy, not needing Neville's nod of confirmation. "Well, let's go. You might not have much time before she's kicked out of the classroom with half a year's worth of detentions lined up, anyway."

Neville looked at him. Then looked some more. It took Blaise a long moment to realize what he'd said. Neville could see it the instant he did.

So he waited for the explanation that came stumbling from the Slytherin's mouth without any further prompting beyond the stare, "I, well, I- Okay, so I stayed back a little but I was curious because she was staying back and you weren't, because you ne- well, anyway he was already getting angry and-"

The boy shut his mouth, realizing that his words weren't really doing anything to improve his image. Neville didn't say a word, only giving Blaise a disapproving look that had the boy looking like an apologetic dog who knew he'd done wrong.

They made it to Draco, and all thoughts of Blaise were gone. Despite wanting to, he didn't run up and hug the other boy. Draco wasn't much one for physical contact, no matter how much Neville had missed him.

"Hey, Draco." he said- Neville could hear the relief in his own voice, the joy in finally being able to talk to him again since the end of first year. Then he frowned, taking in Draco's appearance. He seemed… off. Worried about something, maybe?

After an exchange of pleasantries, Draco asked, "So, about the other day. When I was arguing with Potter. What was wrong?"

Neville had actually mostly forgotten about that encounter. His 'episodes' were fairly common and generally nothing to note upon. He frowned, unsure of what he could tell Draco about it. He wanted to trust the other boy, but this was big… and Blaise was right there.

"Oh, I was just a little sick, it's really nothing to worry about." Neville replied, knowing the instant he said the words that Draco knew he was lying.

Neville sighed, "Okay… well, I can't really tell you. I'm sorry. It's… well, there's no need for you to worry about it. You'll find out if there is."

He began rubbing his wrist, the one that had broken, absently, thinking about his newfound power. Neville had never expected anything like that to ever happen to him. Freaky immortality powers, being able to make gold (he'd done it once, out of curiosity), and some sort of healing factor…

Neville froze. Healing. He could heal. Maybe, maybe it would work, it would fix his parents. Could it? He didn't know, but suddenly the hope had grabbed onto him and wouldn't let go. He had to tell Haven. He'd go home next break and visit, and maybe he'd get his parents back. The idea took his breath away.

"-ville? Neville!"

He became aware that Draco was shaking his shoulders, having gone white in the face. A scary sort of desperation was in his eyes.

"What?" Neville said breathlessly, eyes focusing back onto Draco. The first thing Neville realized was that the normally neat and orderly boy was an untidy mess now. He looked like he'd been standing in the middle of a hurricane- his hair sticking up all over the place, is robes pulled to the side. Blaise was huddled up near the wall, his bag torn and the books within strewn about with both Neville's and Draco's. The torches nearby had been knocked to the ground, the fires extinguished.

An ache extended from his chest through his body. A wave of nausea brought him to his knees. He realized he must have done it again- his magic must have gone out of control. He swallowed back bile, looking at Draco, then Blaise. Had they gotten hurt?

"Oh, Merlin." Neville whispered. "Are you two hurt? Did I- I'm sorry."

Draco said, "Sorry?!- What just happened? Blaise was nearly knocked out- the wind came out of _nowhere_ and- what's going on?"

"I can't tell you." Neville replied in a small voice, hating the words and how scared he sounded. "You can't tell anyone what happened. Promise me you won't. Please."

Draco looked at him, and then at Blaise, who was beginning to gather his belongings.

"Okay, I won't tell anyone. But why can't you tell me what just happened?" Draco asked, beginning to work himself up, "This doesn't make any sense. We were literally almost thrown through the wall out of nowhere!"

"No, it doesn't make sense. I can't tell you anything… It's… well, it's not something people can know. Not even you… I'm sorry." Neville replied.

The blonde boy looked at him, finally saying, "You won't tell me, but you told Potter, didn't you?"

Neville flinched. No more answer was needed.

"Why does _she_ get to know?!" demanded Draco, "You know I wouldn't tell-" he paused, realizing Blaise was also there, "And Blaise knows how to keep a secret. I doubt Potter could hide a thing, yet you'd trust her with something that's probably dangerous. But not me."

Neville shrunk down on himself, "I… I was scared. I didn't know what to do…"

Draco looked ready to begin yelling once more, but was stopped by Blaise grabbing his arm. "Draco, give it a rest. Can't you see how scared he is? This is bigger than your feelings."

Draco and Blaise stared at each other, neither backing down. Neville glanced between them, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Draco lowered his gaze, wrenching his arm from Blaise's grip.

"Fine." the blonde boy said through clenched teeth. "Whatever."

With that, Draco stormed away from the both of them. Blaise and Neville watched him go, neither following the boy. Once he was out of sight, Blaise offered Neville a hand up, which the Gryffindor took gratefully.

"He'll get over it." Blaise said quietly, sympathy softening his expression, "You know how he is. He's concerned and hurt, and he's not very good at remaining rational when he's upset… especially with how his relationship with _her_ went. That, and… well, we've been dealing with some problems of our own."

"I know." Neville replied with a heavy sigh, "Thanks, Blaise."

The boy nodded a little awkwardly, "Uh, you're welcome, I guess. I'll talk to him, you go on. I suspect she's looking for you by this point."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you later, then." Neville said, before picking up his things and making his way to find Haven. He had to tell her about his parents, even if he couldn't tell her what had happened with Draco. If he needed to, he could always talk about part of that with Zacharias, but since the Hufflepuff didn't know about the Stone yet and Neville wasn't sure how he'd react, he couldn't know everything either. Neville sighed heavily. He wished Haven and Draco would just make amends so that he could talk to her about everything. It hurt him to have to keep anything from her, with how much she trusted him.

"There you are, Neville!" there was Haven. He could tell the instant he saw her that she was angry. He'd become quite good at reading her emotions. Just as he read that, he could see she noticed that something was wrong with him, too. She was about to open her mouth to ask, but Neville cut her off.

"How'd it go?" he asked, knowing he was about to get a rant but wanting to get it out of the way before he shared his own news.

The girl huffed, "Horribly. The man just can't listen to reason! I wasn't even all that rude to him, but he still had to act like a child and throw a temper tantrum when I said something he didn't like. He gave me detention. This is why I don't normally reason my way out of situations, you know. No one ever listens."

Neville patted her shoulder sympathetically. He'd guessed that Snape wouldn't take it well, but Haven's form of talking about a situation was generally a bit too abrasive for most people. He'd doubted Snape would listen in any case- he really hated her, more than anyone else.

"Well, now that that's off my chest, what's with you?" Haven asked, poking Neville in the chest. Her anger faded for the present, his well being taking precedence over her feelings. She really was amazing.

The boy dimly realized his hands were shaking as he said, "Uh… you know how I have those healing powers because of what happened, right? Well… do you think that it could make my parents better?"

Haven's eyes widened, "I don't know, but we'll try. We'll have to wait until Christmas, but- wow. It might actually work. I mean, we don't know what all the rules are for that healing thing are, but still!"

Her excitement multiplied his own, "I could get my parents back."

"You could! I mean, it might not happen, but we don't know! I really hope it does." Haven said, pulling Neville into a hug, "We deserve a little good, huh?"

Neville nodded, "Yeah, I guess."

"This is exciting, Neville! I'm happy for you." Haven paused, "Well, we should head to dinner or we'll be missed. Oh, I can't wait until break!"

A smile made it's way to his face, the idea becoming real, "Me neither."

* * *

 **I've realized that I haven't really expanded upon Neville's relationship with the two Slytherins yet, so I decided to get that out of the way... and then suddenly this happened. I'm really starting to get attached to Blaise, which is fun. That and Neville. You can't do better than Neville.**

 **Good news: School is out! Yay! Another year done. I should have more time to write now... hopefully I'll feel like Not a Dream... We'll see.**


	35. Chapter 35: This Is A Warning

**So my muses are being the jerks they like being... Not very fun, but I managed to bully another chapter out of myself. Yay, willpower!**

 **So that one-shot present featuring the pairing Haven X Fred X George X Neville is out, and it turned out better than I had hoped from myself. It's called Moments in Time, and I hope everyone enjoys it!**

 **As to Haven and Draco being friends once again, all I can say is... *SPOILERS*. That's it kiddos. Nothing more to tell you.**

 **I own... you got it. Nothing. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 35: This Is a Warning**

The section of narrative displayed below beings a few days before the Halloween of Haven Winchester's second year at Hogwarts. Our first scene places us within the library, specifically within the section designated to allow students a quiet place to study. After all, not all Common Rooms have an environment well suited to productive studying. Several second years of the house Gryffindor, accompanied by a lone Hufflepuff and two fourth year twins are seated at one of the tables provided.

"Where's Michelangelo?" asked one Hermione Granger, quick to notice the empty seat reserved for their friend.

Haven Winchester paused in her furious writing, "Now that you mention it, he's been strangely absent recently."

"That would be because he's been spending time with that Ravenclaw firstie." answered Fred Weasley.

Actually, he was not spending time with the Ravenclaw- not yet, though he was making his way to meet up with her. In the meantime, Luna Lovegood found herself in quite the predicament.

* * *

 **Luna's POV**

Luna's first indication that she'd noticed the newcomers at all came when they kicked her pots of paint over, spilling them across the ground and her painting. However, she didn't give the upset reaction that the others seemed to be hoping for. Instead, her serene smile changed to a look of thoughtfulness as she examined her now-ruined painting.

"Hm? That is not a bad alteration- the streams of color makes for an interesting picture, don't you think?" the young girl asked, looking up to the four Ravenclaw third years standing around her.

"I suggest you stop wasting time on those ugly mud puddles, Loony Lovegood." said the girl who appeared to be the ringleader. Of all of them, she was most infested with wrackspurts and other such things that did nothing to sweeten her disposition.

She would one day join a Ministry that would exploit her and lead to her falling under an Imperius to serve a cause she'd never supported, even for all her failings.

"They're just as much of a waste of space as her, don't you think?" said a girl with very plain features.

She would watch her family die before her and then join them in death.

A boy beside her laughed, before saying, "Don't be so harsh. Her silly made-up stories are entertaining, don't you think?"

He'd become an auror and save many lives, though he'd fail to save just as many.

"She's an _embarrassment_ to the Ravenclaw House." sneered the final boy, "I can't believe she was put here. She's more like a Hufflepuff, really. They don't mind crazies there."

He'd die an old man, realizing he'd never done anything meaningful in his life.

"Hey, Loony, do you think we should teach you a lesson on how a Ravenclaw is supposed to act?" asked one of the girls with a wicked smile.

"A lesson? What would this lesson entail?" Luna asked, a bored sort of curiosity in her voice. As an answer, the four students drew their wands.

A new voice interrupted in a pleasant tone, "I _hope_ you four are not planning on breaking any school rules with your wands pointed so threateningly at your fellow student? That would be a ridiculous notion, would it not?"

Daphne Greengrass, Slytherin second year. Destined to lead the life of a diplomat. Blonde hair done up with great care and guarded grey eyes that revealed nothing, even at this young age. The angular features that were commonplace among aristocratic purebloods. The grace and poise expected of an Heiress to a prominent pureblood family. Overall, an ally.

"Stay out of this, _Slytherin."_ said the ringleader, lowering her wand. "This is a matter between Ravenclaws."

"Oh, I don't mean to intrude. However, since you appear to be done here, I was wondering if I could borrow this young woman for a time?" Daphne replied, her voice perfectly polite as she glided over, coming to stand right before the ringleader, meeting the older girl's eyes. She held herself like a Queen, and every one of them saw it. Only a few moments passed in silence before the leader of the group backed down. The Ravenclaws then retreated without any further comment, leaving Luna with the Greengrass Heiress. The girl didn't say anything, pulling out her wand and cleaning up the spilled paint, before picking up the little now-empty jars. Luna herself gathered up her bag and altered painting.

As Daphne handed her the jars, Luna said, "You are worried for me. There is no need."

If the other girl was unsettled, she hid it well, "I doubt that this is the last you will see of those four."

"I most certainly will see them again." Luna hummed in agreement. The other girl's face was carefully blank.

"I am Daphne Greengrass. May I know your name?" the Slytherin asked.

Luna replied, "Luna Lovegood. It's nice to meet you. You house a refreshing lack of wrackspurts."

"I suppose that comment merits a thank you." Daphne says, the slightest touch of amusement in her eyes, "Will you be well if I take my leave?"

"Of course. I hope you live up to the potential I see in you." Luna said in her way of farewell. Thus, she set off to find Michelangelo and suggest they spend time with his friends lest they think she was monopolizing his time.

* * *

That Halloween saw much merrymaking among the main group of characters. The two Slytherins were much more subdued in comparison, but that may have just been their way. They found themselves frustrated by the lack of clues regarding their current case, but they were soon to encounter the first one, allowing them to truly begin to plan out a course of action.

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

"Are you still worried for Neville?" Blaise, ever the perceptive one, asked as Draco picked at his food. He wasn't really feeling up to the lively feast held for Halloween, but he was hardly going to make Blaise skip a meal. He'd probably faint or something.

Draco sighed, giving up on forcing himself to eat anything, "Yes, I am. Can you stop looking at me like that now?"

"Like what?" the other boy asked.

"Like _that."_ Draco answered, "Like you're just waiting for me to spill all of my secrets or something."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I guess. I'm not trying to make you say anything. I'm just, uh…" Blaise trailed off, attempting to think of exactly what he 'just was'.

Eventually, Draco took pity on his friend, "Concerned is the word you're looking for."

"I suppose." Blaise said indifferently, taking a sip from his goblet as his eyes strayed to Neville across the room. "Back the the previous subject. If Neville doesn't want to tell you about it, there's not much you can do. I don't think it's anything personal against you, or even me."

What annoyed Draco the most was that Blaise was probably right, as he normally was when it came to reading people. He didn't bother replying, staring off into space and attempting to block out the sounds of the other students laughing and talking. Blaise didn't do anything to attempt to regain Draco's attention, allowing him to daydream until the feast was finally over.

The pair were among the first to leave, the crowd of loud students making their way out of the Great Hall.

"Draco, there's something there." Blaise said, bringing Draco out of his thoughts to see words splayed across the wall and the immobile cat hanging beneath them. The chatter died as the blood drained from Draco's face.

It had finally started.

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

"Oh, no." Blaise whispered, his hands going to his mouth as he realized what this meant. Draco's fists clenched, his brain beginning to work. They needed to figure out the culprit and the means, and quickly. Before anyone else was targeted. You could hear a pin drop as the crowd stopped moving, holding their breath.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" that was Argus Filch, shouldering his way through the crowd. When he saw his cat, Mrs. Norris, he fell back in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" the words came out at a shriek. Then his gaze snapped to the crowded students, attempting to find a culprit.

"Who murdered my cat!" the man demanded, beginning to point to members of the crowd, "Was it you?! Or you?! I'll kill who did this! I'll-"

The voice of Albus Dumbledore cut through his tirade, " _Argus!"_

The crowd parted before him and the group of teachers that followed him. He approached the hanging cat, carefully detaching her from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus." the man said in a commanding, yet not unkind, voice. "Students, if you'll return to your Common Rooms?"

"My office is nearest, Headmaster- just upstairs- please feel free-" that was the fraud, Lockhart, as he approached the Headmaster with an excited expression.

The Headmaster replied, "Thank you, Gilderoy."

The host of teachers hurried away, leaving a silent crowd behind. No one said anything, staring at the words.

Finally, the prefects called for the students to begin making their way to the Common Rooms. Once there, conversations finally began, everyone whispering about what had happened within the safety of the Common Room.

"We'll have to return to the scene of the crime and search for clues as soon as possible." Blaise said in a hushed voice, keeping an eye of the students nearby. "For now, just start talking at me, I don't care what about. I'm going to listen to see what everyone's saying."

Draco gave his most unimpressed look at his friend, who adopted a concentrated look as he leaned against the arm of his chair. He may have been looking at Draco, but he was no longer paying him any attention.

"Hopefully you hear something useful." Draco said, "Anyway, so we'll go look around early tomorrow, and plan from there do you think?"

He knew Blaise wasn't really listening to him, but it might help to think out loud.

"I don't think the cat was targeted in purpose- likely the mistake of a beginner, do you think?" Draco rolled his eyes when Blaise nodded absently, eyes darting to a group of sixth years talking nearby, "We'll have to figure out the cause of death, anyway. There didn't seem to be any physical harm or any visible signs of curses. That points to advanced magic of some kind… Anyway, I should have hopefully managed to convince the others to stay out of this, so we shouldn't have to look out for them in all of this mess. Unless they ignore my warning… It'll be more complicated if they do, it'll be hard enough to do this on our own without getting caught. Adding in those idiots who are about as subtle as a group of rampaging dragons would be asking to get us all killed."

Blaise nodded again, still not paying attention to what he was saying. However, Draco had expended his current thoughts.

"So are we going to be going to sleep any time soon? I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted… you're going to make me sit out here and talk to myself for hours, aren't you? I'll be getting revenge for this Blaise. You just keep nodding like an idiot." Draco continued quietly, repositioning himself to make himself more comfortable. Maybe he'd doze while waiting for Blaise to finish eavesdropping.

"Will you mind if I go to sleep?" he asked. When he got no answer, he decided to curl up and take that as a yes.

He didn't know how much time had passed before Blaise woke him again. The Common Room was mostly empty by that part aside from a few remaining stragglers.

"What'd you find out?" Draco asked, rubbing his eyes.

Blaise replied, "No one knew who the Heir was, or sounded like they might be. Mostly it was talk about how their parents had warned them to be cautious and keep their heads down, and they wouldn't be targeted. Most everyone agreed that muggleborns would be targeted… the muggleborns here seemed worried about that, however since no person's been hurt it's nothing too serious yet, only talk."

"So you kept me out here… for that." Draco said, giving Blaise another unimpressed look.

Blaise shrugged, "Any information might become important later, we just don't know. Besides, what if I'd missed something that turned out to be critical information later? Tomorrow we'll go take a look at the crime scene during dinner, I think. Hopefully something useful will turn up."

"You're way to excited about this." Draco commented.

"Not excited, really… Well, I suppose excited, but because there's finally something we can be doing about all of this. We haven't been able to do anything since you first told me about this in the first place." Blaise replied.

Draco nodded, standing up, "I'll try to be more excited tomorrow morning. Can we sleep now?"

* * *

 **Is it short? Yes. Did I take more time than I had wanted to? Also yes. Did I only manage to write because my sister was playing Dragon Age Origins and therefore monopolizing the time of my gaming laptop so I couldn't distract myself by taking over the world in CK2? You can't prove it (but the answer is probably yes).**

 **Thank you for reading! I send hugs to all of you lovely humans, and hope you'll stick around for the next chapter (whenever I manage to write it).**


	36. Chapter 36: Mirror

**Hello again! I'm back with another chapter... yeah I wasn't too sure what I was doing and I'm visiting family so I'm still a bit slow. Sorry about that. Anyway, I really appreciate all of the support I've been getting from all of you, it makes me feel very proud of myself, even if I still have a very long way to go. I'd like to take a moment to thank all of my guest reviewers. You guys are awesome and I'm sad I can't start conversations with some of you (the things people say in reviews, it's so intriguing! AGH! XD). I just want you guys to know that yes I read your reviews and I seriously consider everything you say in the case of praise or criticism. I know sometimes it feels like authors ignore your criticism, but I try not to (especially with the case of the area where I'm pretty close to canon... I get it. I've tried to change it a little more or skip over the parts you know since then).**

 **I adore all of you. You all mean a lot to me, and I'm not just saying that. I'm honored that you read what I write and are willing to keep reading.**

 **Thank you. Now then, on to the chapter that contains material that I do not own.**

* * *

 **Chapter 36: Mirror**

 **Draco's POV**

The next night at dinner saw the pair heading to the scene of the crime, Blaise with a notebook and quill in hand, ready to take notes on potential clues. Draco had worried over how they would get past Filch, as the man had taken to stalking the scene of the crime as if hoping that his cat's attacker would return.

"Trust me, Draco. I got it taken care of." Blaise assured him, entirely confident about that. Draco wondered what poor sap Blaise had 'convinced' to get rid of Filch for him, but soon decided it was unimportant.

Draco said, "Alright, whatever you say. What do you remember about last night, aside from the writing?"

Blaise tapped the quill to his cheek in thought, "Well, the cat wasn't killed. Only petrified, but that's still pretty complicated magic. I learned from a few older students that the Chamber supposedly has some sort of monster inside it, one that only the Heir of Slytherin could control. I looked through what family trees I could find, but didn't find anyone tracing back to Slytherin."

"We'll try my Manor, over Christmas… if we need to. I know we have some pretty old Pureblood genealogies stuffed away somewhere." Draco suggested.

Blaise nodded, before he was off again, "The words were written in red, maybe blood or attempting to make the appearance of blood at least. Filch hasn't managed to get it off, so some sort of magical protection at the very least on them. Someone wants the message to stay- they don't want to be forgotten. Also they have a flair for the dramatic- they need something big to make everyone fixated on them and their doings, to boost their self-importance."

"Wasn't it flooded, too?" Draco asked, trying to recall other details. The other boy nodded assent, writing it down in his notebook. At this, they arrived to the crime scene. It was left mostly the same, beside being roped off to discourage students. It was a discouragement promptly ignored by the pair of Slytherins as they edged closer, studying their surroundings.

The Malfoy heir looked down, studying the ground with furrowed brows, "There's scorch marks scattered around."

Blaise came to look at them, staring at them for a moment before writing that down as a clue. Draco kept looking, both of them quickly noting the nearby bathroom.

"That may be where all of the water came from." said Draco thoughtfully as the quill scratched. It was a girl's bathroom, so they didn't enter. Blaise would probably get a girl to look into it later, knowing him, and that was fine with Draco.

"Huh. That's odd. Draco, over here." came Blaise's voice as Draco looked around the bathroom door. He was standing at the window next to the message on the wall. As Draco approached, Blaise motioned to the top pane, where a large group of spiders fought their way through a small crack in the wall. Their movements appeared frantic, as if something was chasing them and they were desperate to get away.

"That is very odd." Draco commented, leaning closer. "I've never seen spiders act anything like this. What could have caused this?"

He looked to Blaise, who shrugged before making a note on the spiders and their odd behavior. So far the clues weren't making a clear picture, but perhaps with some research and thought it would become more apparent as to the method and the culprit.

Once Blaise was done taking notes, they headed down to dinner, Blaise whispering, "Do you think that we should watch that area, just in case?"

Draco paused a moment, before answering, "It wouldn't hurt, but I don't know if we need to. There's no reason to assume the location has anything to do with… well, anything. How would we watch the area anyway?"

Blaise considered it, but didn't answer.

"There are spells for that sort of thing, however, they'll all be pretty advanced, I think. I'll look into it for you." Draco told him when the silence had stretched on long enough.

His companion slowly shook his head, "I'd appreciate it, but I think… there's no need to use magic to watch it. I'll just need… hm… the castle's pretty big, so… hm."

It was clear that Blaise was ignoring him now, so Draco cleared his throat, giving his friend an expectant look. Blaise still ignored him, preoccupied in his thoughts.

Draco rolled his eyes, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he waited. "What is it you're thinking of doing here, Blaise?"

"I'll need mirrors. Lots and lots of mirrors." Blaise looking completely serious as he said it, a firmness taking over his features. His head tilted to the side as he considered a thought, "Perhaps I should ask mother… Hopefully she will have the number I need…"

"... This plan of yours doesn't involve Professor Lockhart, does it?"

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

" _This_ is what that House Elf was warning me about!" Haven said under her breath to the library table as they gathered there to do schoolwork the next day. "The bad things at Hogwarts- it's starting. I think it's going to get worse- from that note on the wall, this is only the beginning. This Chamber of Secrets… we'll have to look into it, for certain."

Hermione perked up at that, "I looked through the library for some books that might mention the subject this morning. I haven't found any mention yet. I suspect that we'll find more information in _Hogwarts: A History._ I wish I'd packed it with me!"

"I didn't think to bring it either." Haven replied glumly. She'd left it in her Gringotts vault with a lot of her other books (the ones she didn't send to Sam, at least).

Zacharias said, "I thought that the House Elf was warning you to stay out of it, Alexandrite."

Haven gave him a very flat look, "Did you think for one second I would actually listen?"

The Hufflepuff only sighed and resumed writing his Potions essay. Haven then turned her attention to the newcomer, Luna Lovegood. She didn't know much about the first year yet, but Michelangelo liked her and Haven appreciated the fact that the girl didn't seem fazed by her fame. So far she'd kept mostly to herself, occasionally making funny comments in their conversations. The Ravenclaw appeared to have a way of thinking that was different. Not bad- only different.

" _Alex."_ Fred Weasley said in a near-whine, "Why are you being boring and studying? Why don't you help us plan this next prank to get everyone's mind of this Chamber business?"

Haven rolled her eyes, but set aside her books, "Fine, if you insist, I can finish this tomorrow. What are you thinking?"

The twins exchanged a wicked glance that had the rest of the table going pale or groaning aloud at the horrors to come, minus Luna.

"Since it's getting colder, we thought we might turn a corridor or two into a tropical paradise for a few days." George said as he broke eye contact with his twin. Haven became thoughtful at the idea, considering what would be needed for such a feat.

Fred leaned over Haven to pick up her books and shove them into her bag in a clear, if silent, statement that she wouldn't be allowed to work on anything but this as he informed her, "We thought that we would allow you to do most of the planning for this one, as a test of sorts. You come up with the elements you think are necessary and some of how to do it, and we'll help along the way as needed."

"We have faith in your abilities, Apprentice," George said with a seriousness that he obviously fought to keep in his expression.

Hermione sniffed disdainfully at them, "We have several more important things to focus on, and you are going to distract her with _this?_ It's irresponsible."

"Have you met them?" Zacharias questioned flatly.

"Alex could use a break, Hermione. In fact, we all could." at this, Michelangelo turned to the twins and Haven with a smile, "Do you think we could help?"

Haven shrugged as the twins grinned and Fred said, "We're always willing to teach today's youth."

Neville, who'd stayed silent as he concentrated on a Herbology essay, finally interjected a comment of his own, "Corrupt, you mean."

He returned to his essay as if he hadn't said anything. Haven smothered a giggle as the rest of the table exchanged raised eyebrows at the comment. Normally Neville's jokes and comments were said with a hint of anxiousness or uncertainty, as if afraid that his words would sound stupid once he said them.

"He's not wrong." Michelangelo told a pair of twins who looked torn between acting indignant or just laughing.

Neville tapped his quill against the desk, not looking up, "So we're planning a prank, then? Let's start with what elements we want or need. We can come up with how to do them after we figure out what we're trying to do."

Haven appeared thoughtful, "Well, we'll need the decoration to make it look tropical. The trees, bright light, and the animals. Maybe some sand and a small pond or something- we could have a bridge going over it."

"This is a waste of time." Hermione said, "What about our schoolwork? The Chamber of Secrets?"

Zacharias shook his head, "It's an exercise in futility to try and stop them now. Might as well stick around and make sure they don't do anything too ridiculous if they insist on wasting their time."

Hermione huffed, but didn't say anything more.

"Well, we'll need some form of heat, right?" Michelangelo suggested. "Like… aren't there heating charms?"

George considered this, "Well, there's also the humidity. Heating charms normally don't add in that."

"We might need to have it rain at some point, too." Neville added. Everyone was becoming involved now. Haven was writing down the suggestions everyone had made so that they could research how each could be done.

Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "If you're doing this for the enjoyment of the students, add a study area with drinks provided, like the ones you might find if you visited the tropics as a tourist. Under some form of roof if you're going to have it suddenly start to rain everywhere."

That set everyone off to exchanging amused looks again, to Hermione's annoyance. So much for this being a waste of time that she disapproved of. The brunette stood up while rolling her eyes at them, before she disappeared into the charms section of the library, likely looking for books to help bring the prank to life, knowing her.

Haven smiled as they watched her walk away, "I should help her. I'll check the Potions section."

Everyone else returned to their work while they waited, except Fred and George, who whispered quietly to one another. No one knew exactly what about, but no one was willing to ask about it, either. Despite the others having mostly warmed up to them, they made intimidating figures. Not only were they older than all of them, but they had a penchant for creating chaos wherever they went and many of them had been on the receiving end in some form or fashion one to many times to feel entirely safe.

Quickly enough Haven and Hermione returned, both with a large stack of books that made the ones who didn't have such an appreciation for reading nearly groan out loud. There was reading to do and none would come out unscathed.

Next week, everything was prepared and the group was ready to show off their work. It had taken a lot of time out of studying, much to Hermione's annoyance, but in the end most agreed that it was for the better. The entire school would talk about nothing else but the Chamber of Secrets and what all of it could mean. Many students, especially of the younger years, were quite upset over the event and fretted over the future. Was the petrified cat only a warning, signaling worse to come? It was agreed that any distraction to help matters would only benefit the school atmosphere, so it was a hopeful and satisfied group of students who snuck out late the night before to set up, using a mix of Haven's Invisibility Cloak and the twin's adult radar to ensure none of them were caught.

That morning was the reveal, and it was quite the spectacular one.

The entrance to the paradise they'd crafted began with a line of trees, a break in the middle that formed a neat path. Noises of tropical life greeted those who approached- the chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves chief among them. A wooden sign proclaimed it to be 'Paradise at Hogwarts'. The walls on the sides of the corridor were covered in green vines, the ceiling dotted with lights and clouds that floated about.

Once one began along the path between the trees, a pleasant warmth began to make it's presence known, the appearance of sunlight streaming between the trees. Brightly colored birds studied those that entered, some brave enough to land upon the shoulders of the students but most content in observation alone. Further in, palm trees and sand outlined a small pond, fish swimming within and a few chairs spread around it with umbrellas to provide shade from the bright lights lining the ceiling in the facsimile of the sun. A bridge crossed the pond in the middle for those whose destination lie beyond. The forest began again.

Further beyond was a small shelter containing a few tables and lawn chairs. On the tables were jugs of brightly colored juices, cup sporting straws and umbrellas circling around. The jugs refilled themselves when emptied, allowing for several students to partake from them. After continued more forest, then an exit similar to the entrance.

The students adored the change for the most part, barring the few who happened to be about when a sudden downpour began. Their school supplies had been protected, but the same could not be said of their now-drenched clothing.

Everyone knew it was Fred and George, but were surprised when they informed the masses that they had conspirators for this endeavor, and that they could not have done it alone. Once word reached the ears of the faculty, they promptly went mad, wondering who could have been roped into it and if they would help in further pranks. Everyone knew that the twins spent a good amount of time with Alexandrite Potter, but she was such a good student for everyone barring Snape that they immediately dismissed her, for she obviously took her studies more seriously than that.

None of the teachers could take down the forest, or if they could did not see a need to. In a few days it disappeared, and it was back to business as usual. Talk had begun to branch out from the topic of the Chamber of Secrets, though it was still quite the hot topic. Even so, moods were much higher.

Overall, the group considered it a job well done.

* * *

 **I haven't done a prank in awhile, so here you go! XD I also had fun with Detectives Malfoy and Zabini... I can't resist writing them, especially because they are very important to the plot for this school year. I've been trying to do stuff with Michelangelo and Luna, but I guess that'll wait until these precious babies are done being important XD.**


	37. Chapter 37: More Than Meets the Eye

**Greetings. Storm here, nice to see you again. We're here, hopefully back on schedule, to bring you another chapter of fun. And mirrors.**

 **I own, ah what was it again? Yeah nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 37: More Than Meets the Eye**

 **Zacharias's POV**

The way they tended to frequent the library like they did was beginning to make Zacharias feel like something of a scholar. He supposed that some within their group could qualify, but he was nearly positive that the Weasley twins especially would never have dared to frequent the library as much as they did to preserve their image at least if not for their strange fixation on Alexandrite and the rest of her associates.

Now that they had completed that prank and seemed to have satisfied that urge for the present, everyone's attention had once more turned to the Chamber of Secrets, since they couldn't seem to resist poking their noses into the matter. Because of course Zacharias had managed to find a group of bleeding hearts with hero complex's larger than he had thought possible and worse yet he had become _attached._ Really, he'd brought this trouble on himself.

"Well, generally when starting a Hunt you try to figure out what it is you are hunting. It's not just whatever's in the Chamber- it's whoever the Heir is, too. So, who could it be? Any ideas?" Alexandrite asked, flipping through her charms notes. Zacharias supposed her urge to save everyone had been nurtured to the point that she couldn't ignore it anymore, since she was a Hunter-in-training. She was used to this sort of thing, unlike the others, so her first instinct being to go Hunt the danger wasn't anything unexpected, only slightly annoying and more than anything anxiety-inducing. He was quickly becoming resigned to many sleepless, stress-filled nights in his future.

The group was silent for a moment. It was Michelangelo who first offered an opinion, "Well, it's the Heir of Slytherin, right, after muggleborns and all? So, wouldn't the Heir be, in, well, Slytherin?"

"A logical conclusion, if not necessarily accurate." Luna commented, "The young do not always follow the path that those that came before traveled. The snake might wear another face, you know, but if it shows it's true colors the others will not give it away to outsiders. They've grown quite distrustful and isolated in recent years to protect themselves, haven't they?"

The vast majority of the group looked at the young Ravenclaw quizzically at that, not fully comprehending what she meant, or at least what it had to do with finding the Heir.

Trust Michelangelo to follow his Ravenclaw's odd way of phrasing things, "I guess you're right, it'll be hardest to find out anything from the Slytherins if the Heir is one since we can keep a better eye on our own Houses. So then I guess we'll need to figure out how we're going to check that House."

There was silence as everyone considered this.

"Well, there might be a way…" said Hermione carefully, biting her lip, "But it'll be dangerous, and we'll be breaking dozens of rules, I'd expect. However, this is quite important, and there might not be any other way."

Zacharias didn't stand for beating around the bush very well in the best of times, and as soon as he was tired of it he said, "Spit it out, Granger."

"There's a potion that would allow us to take on the appearance of a few Slytherins. That way we can get them to talk to us about the Heir, if they are in Slytherin." Hermione said. "It's called the Polyjuice potion, and it's in a book in the Restricted Section."

Zacharias gave her a very flat look. Honestly he'd never expected such idiocy to come out of her mouth.

"Do you even begin to realize all of the things wrong with that plan?" the Hufflepuff asked, sighing at her blank look, "I thought not. _Assuming_ you can brew the potion correctly- since the potion you are talking about is a difficult one by all accounts and it is highly unlikely you will not make a mistake that will end terribly for all of us- you do realize we will have to convincingly act like students we barely know, and ensure that they are out of the picture while we do this since having two of the same person in the room would be a dead giveaway? Once we get caught- because we _will-_ we'll likely not only be expelled but arrested, especially if we impersonate any heirs of noble houses which we will have to do if we want our questions answered as heirs have more political power and power is everything in Slytherin. Besides, with our luck we'd end up impersonating the Heir of Slytherin, and it would look quite odd if we were asking questions about ourselves."

Hermione appeared to see reason, but she still had more to say, "But… how else are we going to figure it out, if not like that?"

Zacharias rolled his eyes. _Amateurs_. "I've got it covered. Neville, you're coming with me." He paused, then continued, "Fred, George. I need your people tracking skills. The rest of you, carry on with what you are doing."

Everyone exchanged dubious glances, but Neville, Fred, and George fell in step behind him when he began at a brisk pace out of the Library.

"We're going to ask Blaise and Draco about it, aren't we?" Neville asked as soon as they were well out of Alexandrite's earshot.

"Obviously. Your particular facial expressions might be necessary. However- Fred, George, lead the way." Zacharias said, motioning the twins forward. They looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

George pulled something from his bag, Fred stepping closer to obscure it from the sights of the second years as he said, "Give us a moment."

With that George whispered something under his breath. A few seconds, before another whispered phrase and the object was shoved back in the bag and Fred stepped aside. Zacharias raised an eyebrow but saved his comments for later.

Fred and George led them quickly to their destination, which turned out to be a mostly empty corridor nearby where the attack on the cat had happened.

Draco appeared to be attempting to position a mirror high on the wall using a chair and some books to increase his height as the Extra's voice called, "A little to the right- no, not that far! Back a little, and down… A little more. There! Don't move it."

Zacharias found himself giving Draco- who hasn't yet noticed them- a very dry, unimpressed look, "I can scarcely believe you are allowing the _Extra_ to order you around like this, Malfoy."

Draco jumped in surprise, dropping the mirror and nearly tumbling down from the chair he'd stood upon. He huffed in annoyance, lowering himself from the chair to reclaim the now-shattered mirror, fixed with a quick _reparo_ by George.

"I thought I told you not to move it!" the Extra cried from further down the corridor. "Oh, what are they doing here?"

Strangely, he hadn't looked their way. It took a moment to see the glint of reflected light that showed Zacharias where another mirror was. The Hufflepuff exchanged a mystified look with Neville. What was with the mirrors?

"I'd like to know that as well. So what _are_ you doing here, Smith?" Draco asked, carefully placing his mirror on the chair. Blaise chose that moment to join the group, glancing between each of them as if trying to deduce what they wanted.

Zacharias sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We're in the process of gathering information on the Chamber of Secrets. As the only two Slytherins that will even talk to us, I was wondering if perhaps you knew anything about the Heir and their identity? Or even the Chamber in general."

A look of shock, then frustration crossed Draco's face, "Don't tell me- you _aren't_ getting involved. Merlin, do none of you have the slightest bit of caution? This isn't a game, you'll all get killed! You have to stay out of this, all of you."

"We know that." Neville replied soothingly, "But we can't just sit back and watch. Both Hermione and Michelangelo are in danger if the Heir really is going to target muggleborns, besides the fact that if there's anything we can do to help we will. That's just our way. I'm sorry that it worries you, but you know we don't really have much of a choice."

Zacharias shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Because you're all a bunch of bleeding hearts with no sense of self preservation. Why am I the only one with sense?"

The Extra began to giggle at him, attempting to hide it when Zacharias sent a glare his way. He had to remember that the boy seemed to have uncanny hearing if nothing else.

"This-" Draco stopped, sighing in a defeated manner, "Alright, _fine_. If you all insist, who am I to stop you. Talk to Blaise."

With that he stomped down the corridor, leaving the Extra with the other four. Zacharias looked at his fingernails, uninterested in Draco's tantrum.

"So, assuming you have anything useful, what are you going to want in return?" Zacharias asked the Extra nonchalantly, "That's how these things generally work, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll just settle with a future favor, I guess, if that works for you." the Extra replied, slightly uncomfortable but attempting to act as nonchalant as Zacharias. A valiant effort, if wasted. There was only so much you could do to mask _that_ level of natural awkwardness. Zacharias had only been fooled all of two seconds upon actually paying attention to the Extra.

After all, he just wasn't that important to the plot.

Neville was the one to nod, "We're fine with that. No objections, right, Fred, George? Zacharias?"

The twins exchanged one of those telepathic communication looks, before shrugging as if they didn't care either way. Which they probably didn't, seeing as they hadn't had much to do with either Slytherin, Extra or otherwise.

"It is the standard, I believe." Zacharias commented, "As long as we learn something at least somewhat useful."

The Extra pulled a scrap of parchment out of his bag, followed by a self-inking quill. He quickly did a cursory glance at their surroundings, before scribbling down what Zacharias assumed was the information they desired. Once he was done he folded the parchment in half, before handing it to Neville.

"Thank you." the young Gryffindor said with a smile.

The Extra replied in a somewhat anxious tone, "I just hope it's useful. I know Draco doesn't want you all involved, but as long as someone figures out a way to stop this I don't mind. Good luck."

Neville's smiled widened, prompting a small smile from the Extra, "I'm sure it'll help."

"This is cuddly and all, but we should get back to the others before Alexandrite worries I've kidnapped you three for good." Zacharias said with a trace of fondness, not that he'd ever admit that that was what it was. He had more pride than that.

There was an odd look in the Extra's eyes as he looked to Zacharias at that, "Uh, yeah, right. Well, have a good day, I guess. I should go find Draco so we can finish setting my mirrors up."

"What is with the mirrors, anyway?" asked Fred.

The Extra was surprised for a moment, "Oh, those are so I can keep an eye on things. You know, watch the area?" at everyone's quizzical looks, he clarified, "It's a network. You look in one, and if they are set up right you can see far along the line of them through the reflections. The only enchantments on these are ones that allow me to focus in on part of the image. It's, ah, something my mother… anyway. You should really go."

The group of four made their way back to the library. Each of them took a cursory glance at the information the Extra had for them. Even Zacharias was impressed despite himself. Maybe the Extra had some uses after all.

Zacharias was the one who dropped the parchment in front of Alexandrite, "Done."

Alexandrite raised her eyebrows, but unfolded the paper. Before her was a list of bullet points in a small scrawl.

 _Many of the pureblood children were warned to keep their head down this year, and they would be left alone_

 _General agreement that the intended targets consist of muggleborns_

 _If the Heir is a Slytherin, they haven't said anything_

 _There is supposedly an ancient monster hidden in the Chamber that only Slytherin's Heir can control_

 _Petrification is complicated magic, so the Heir is likely older, or the monster in the Chamber is a magical creature capable of this_

 _Message written in red- is blood or meant to call blood to mind._

 _Message is meant to inspire fear. The Heir is likely someone who desires to be well-known and feared as a display of dominance over society (for some insecurity, perhaps?), with a flair for the dramatic._

 _Message couldn't be erased. They want the incident fresh on everyone's minds, and do not want to be forgotten. This is all to boost self-importance, most likely._

 _The floor was flooded during the attack. The water came from the nearby girl's bathroom._

 _Scorch marks were scattered around the scene of the crime_

 _Spiders nearby expressed odd behavior- as if trying to run from something in the castle_

Alexandrite looked like Christmas had come early, "This is… this is perfect! We can start research on this _alone_. I- where did you get all of this? _How?"_

"I have my ways." Zacharias said carefully, knowing it probably wouldn't be smart to inform the girl that Neville had a friendly relationship with Draco and that Zacharias talked to him, even if he wouldn't classify it as friendly interaction. It was best she didn't know, for now at least.

"We're quite talented, apprentice, are we not?" said Fred Weasley, thankfully deflecting attention from Zacharias.

Alexandrite rolled her eyes, before replying in a dry tone of voice, "Yup. I'm in awe."

"I actually am." Michelangelo commented, "Seriously. I have no idea how you managed to get all of this. I thought we were going to be lost until the Heir took out at least five people or something."

"You have no faith." George informed him, unimpressed.

Luna then said, "Tonight."

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Tonight." Luna repeated, firmer. Everyone looked to one another, mystified. There was something ominous about her words.

Neville was the first to shake it off, "Well, we should probably head to our Common Rooms. It's getting late. If something's tonight, then I'm sure we'll find out when it happens."

The next morning, it was discovered that a young Gryffindor first year had been petrified, the first of no one knew how many to come.

* * *

 **And so the plot begins and Haven and Co. begin their next Hunt! Yay! They'll probably do fine... probably... hm... am I evil enough...?**

 **Totally evil enough yep LET'S GO! WELCOME TO HELL KIDS!... (not actual Hell... yet. All in due time.) *I Ship It plays in the background for three months straight***

 **Gosh I need help. Send hugs guys. Seriously, I'm not sure anyone is going to survive with sanity in tact at this rate... you haven't seen the horror that is my notes/plotting page. I've just planned horrible things for our future. Horrible, amazing things... gah why am I doing this to myself. *faceplants into the keyboard and makes pitiful puppy noises*.**


	38. Chapter 38: The Flowers Know Secrets

**Yeah I'm late and I own nothing, now that that is out of the way... new chapter! Yay! And... the beginning of what I've really been waiting for... *ominous music in the background***

* * *

 **Chapter 38: The Flowers Know Secrets**

 **Neville's POV**

Just watching Haven was exhausting. She couldn't sit still. One minute she'd sit beside him, then she'd get up and go to the window, or stand beside Hermione, who was staring at the list as if hoping it would suddenly reveal something that would solve everything. Then she'd go to Zacharias, who was flipping through pages of a book, and writing down possibilities on a sheet of parchment. Then she'd sit back down, running her hands through her hair.

"Haven, calm down." Neville murmured as she sat down again.

"I _can't!"_ she bit back, "Someone else has been attacked, and we still don't know who is behind this! I sent the information we knew to Uncle Bobby, but he won't get back to me for _weeks!_ Who knows who will have been petrified, or killed, in that time! I've never hunted like this without my brothers, or… or John…"

Haven put her head in her hands. Neville reached over, rubbing soothing circles into her back. No one else said a word. The mood in the castle was not by any stretch good, having taken a nosedive after the petrification of first year Colin Creevey. The cat was worrying enough, and the threat- but now the threat had been carried out. No one knew who would be next.

They knew that the Chamber had been opened before, years ago. They knew one person had been killed then. They knew plenty, but not anything that made sense, that pieced together a clear picture and it was maddening.

Neville felt for Haven. For all she knew how to Hunt, having been raised to it, she wasn't working as she usually did. She normally had her brother by her side, with John teaching and advising. She knew how to research, but with the magical world involved the creatures were much different than those she was used to. She'd take every attack as a failure.

Haven took a deep breath, leaning into Neville's side as he began running his fingers through her unruly hair. He could feel the others glancing at them, but no one said anything, becoming used to the close bond that had formed between the pair.

The silence was broken by a sigh, originating from Michelangelo, who was bent over a book, Luna sitting beside him, the only one seemingly unaffected by the tense atmosphere.

"I need a break. In fact, I think we could all use one." Michelangelo informed them, "The words are starting to swim. I'm going out into the grounds while it's still warm enough. Are any of you coming, too?"

Luna stood with him, humming her answer. Zacharias rubbed his temples, before nodding and standing up. Fred and George bounced to their feet, eager to leave their own books behind, those instead being for classes.

"We'll come too." Neville said, hauling Haven to her feet. "Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, pulling a book to her, "I have to find _something_!"

The others exchanged worried looks, but didn't argue with her. Their things were quickly packed, and soon enough the group had trooped out of the castle, finding a calm spot nearby the lake to rest and relax. Michelangelo and Luna sat side by side, drawing in their sketchbooks. Neville lay himself out in the grass, idly watching the clouds as they passed by. Haven rested her head on his stomach, picking at the grass. After much pleading from, Zacharias had reluctantly agreed to bring his flute, and began to play. Fred and George were playing some game or something, but Neville didn't pay them too much attention, basking in the rare moment of peace. There was always something going on, so they rarely had quieter moments to just sit and relax. It was a much-needed break, he decided.

His hands ran through Haven's hair, eventually lulling her into sleep. Neville smiled when he noticed, glad that she could get more sleep. She'd been stretching herself too thin. Not only was there school and Quidditch, but she was also attempting to keep up training and muggle schooling, in addition to this Chamber business. She still found time, through all of that, to help him with the Stone issue. Neville had no idea how she managed it- he'd never be able to do it.

Fred leaned over curiously, "Is she asleep?"

Neville nodded, signaling Fred to be quiet. He and George exchanged a glance that seemed to communicate something, though Neville didn't know what. They'd been doing that increasingly often in their interactions with him. While Neville wondered about it, he didn't question them about it. If he needed to know about it, they'd tell him. His breathing slowed as he sank into a half-asleep state.

"Zacharias." came Michelangelo's voice. Neville didn't move so he could see what they were up to, not wanting to disturb Haven. He apparently made an excellent pillow. The sound of the flute stopped, signalling that Zacharias was listening. "Look at this."

The sound of movement, then, "I see."

"A very nice composition." came Luna. "Very well done, it captures the scene nicely."

"Hmph." Zacharias again.

A rustle signaling movement. Then the twins giggling. "That's adorable." A sigh, then a continuation of the thought, "It's decided- we ship it."

Neville had no clue what they were talking about it but he didn't have the energy to ask. He decided he'd rather nap with Haven.

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

"Has anything happened?" Draco asked, coming up behind Blaise, who was lounged against the wall, a book in his hands though his eyes were trained on a mirror.

Blaise shook his head, "No, nothing important." a smile tugged at his lips, "It's just Lockhart."

"Lockhart?" Draco asked, confused.

"It's just… he's been following the mirrors like they're a trail of crumbs or something. Maybe _he's_ the Heir." Blaise joked, "I mean, he's passed by the first crime scene twice, and the newest one once. We guessed that the Heir would want to revisit the crime scenes, and that he'd be the type that needs other people to inflate his ego for him."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Don't be ridiculous. There's no way it's _that_ idiot. He doesn't have nearly enough intelligence for this sort of operation."

"I know, it's just amusing to think about." Blaise replied, stretching, "I'm going to take a short break. Want to watch for a moment for me?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "No, I don't, but I will. You better be glad that I can stand you."

"I'm very happy to have you as a friend, yes. You're the best. I'll be back." Blaise announced, giving him an awkward half-hug that he seemed to think better of half-way through, jerking back and giving a little wave that was just as awkward. Draco rolled his eyes, wondering what he was going to do with the boy.

Well, for now he was to get comfortable and begin to watch. True to Blaise's word, Lockhart was following the mirrors like a lost puppy following someone who had given it some food scraps, eyes fixed on every mirror he passed. It was great entertainment, at least.

* * *

 **Michelangelo's POV**

As they headed to their first class of the day, Neville pulled him aside, asking quietly, "Is… Is everything okay?"

Michelangelo smiled, a little strained. Trust Neville to have caught on to his mood.

"It's just… something Luna said yesterday." Michelangelo replied with a shrug.

Neville frowned, "Was she upset or something?"

"No, no." Michelangelo said, shaking his head, "It's… she said something about plants, actually. She started going on about this type of… flower. A flower that acts as a parasite, living off the nutrients of the others in the garden. And then she said something about how this flower has… latched on to another one I guess? Something like that. It was weird, and I didn't really get exactly what she meant, but I have a feeling… a bad feeling."

"Do you think it's a clue about the monster in the Chamber?" Neville asked, thoughtful. Michelangelo could only shrug. He didn't know. Luna just sometimes got in this really solemn mood. Whatever she said during these times had this knowing edge, like it meant something more than what it seemed. Like she was trying to warn him of something to come. He didn't always understand what she meant, but he took her seriously, something he thought that no one else really did, at least not like he did. He just got the feeling that she was saying something important, and all he had to do was decipher it.

Michelangelo shook away his thoughts. If something was to happen, it would. Worrying wasn't helping. So he clapped Neville on the shoulder, "Let's catch up with the others before we're late, okay?"

Neville nodded, "Okay." And off they went. Alex looked like she was going to ask what it was about, but one look from Neville stopped her. Hermione urged them to hurry up before they were late, and their paces quickened.

Michelangelo tried to focus on History, he really did. He couldn't pay much attention at the best of times, and all of this craziness distracted him further. He spent the morning trying to decipher the words.

Walking to lunch, he stopped short as he realized he'd nearly stepped on something. He bent down, picking it up. A flower. It was pale yellow, with six petals and a yellow-orange center. Time seemed to slow, voices seeming louder. He looked up, towards a nearby group of Ravenclaw girls in the middle of a conversation.

"Have you seen Sally-Anne anywhere today?" asked one of them, with some sort of Asian heritage by her looks, "She hasn't come to any classes, and she wasn't there this morning or at breakfast."

"Maybe she's sick and went to the Hospital Wing." said another girl, Parvati's twin Michelangelo realized. Padma.

Another girl then said, "Maybe she was attacked instead. It's been a few weeks since the last one, after all, and she is muggleborn."

"Don't say that!" Padma replied, "Someone would have found her if that was the case."

The first girl commented, "Maybe she has been. She would have told one of us if she was sick, I think. It's not like her to just skip classes either. I just hope she's okay!"

Michelangelo bit his lip, finally losing track of the conversation. Someone was missing? Perhaps there was nothing to it, but… he wasn't so sure. He twirled the flower between his fingers, thinking.

At lunch he showed the others the flower, asking, "What kind of flower is this?"

Neville carefully took it form him, examining it for a second before answering, "A daffodil, or _Narcissus pseudonarcissus_. Where'd you find it?"

"It was just in the hallway." Michelangelo replied. He looked over, noticing that Luna was staring at it as if it was cursed.

"Do you want it back?" Neville asked. Michelangelo thought about accepting, but eventually shook his head. What was he going to do with a flower?

That night the school was buzzing with the news that Sally-Anne Perks was missing but no body, petrified or otherwise, had been found. It was quickly assumed that she was the newest victim of the Heir anyway, a theory going around that she was used to feed whatever monster was supposedly hidden in the Chamber.

The teachers seemed worried, but they didn't notify parents or stage any sort of massive-scale manhunt like Michelangelo thought they would. The school worried, and did some looking, but it wasn't what any of their group had expected.

Alex and Neville seemed angry about that, like unreasonably angry, but they didn't communicate exactly why, only shooting each other looks and leaving the group to discuss things with Fred and George, who also seemed a little angrier than the others.

"Do you know anything about that?" Michelangelo asked Zacharias, motioning to the four. Zacharias was watching them carefully. Michelangelo could nearly see the theories swirling around in his head.

Slowly, though, he shook his head, "No, though… I do have some suspicions. I wouldn't worry about it if they don't say anything, though. Waste your energy on something else."

Michelangelo turned to Luna, about to ask the same question, but the words died. She was staring at him, expression… odd. Luna just kept looking at him, her eyes tinged with worry and maybe a little fear.

"Luna, are you okay?" he asked carefully.

She shook free of whatever it was, "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for worrying." _Thank you for caring._ The translation that immediately occurred in his head was enough to ignite fury within him.

Sometimes Michelangelo really hated other kids their age. He knew the other kids bullied Luna, he'd fought against them often enough on her behalf, earning him detention that one time he'd been caught. He couldn't always be there to stop them, however, nor could he stop nearly the entire school from giving her such nicknames as 'Loony'. Every time he heard that word he wanted to punch someone. He was an easy going guy, but the way people treated her like a freak just wasn't right. No one wanted to be her friend but him and the rest of his group. Even Seamus and Ron looked at her like she was crazy, something that had caused a few fights between Michelangelo and the other two, thus causing him to spend an increasing amount of time with Alex, Neville, Hermione, and Zacharias (Luna with him when she could be, of course).

As time dragged on with Sally-Anne remaining missing, the idea that she'd been attacked further embedded itself into everyone's minds. Their group added her to their list of victims, and with that, they were even more lost than before. Before this, petrification was the weapon, but now a child had vanished, signalling a change in behavior.

Michelangelo sighed, rubbing his eyes. Maybe they were in over their heads.

* * *

 **That took some time but I'm happy with what I ended with. I have glorious _plans,_ and Michelangelo is only scraping the surface. I can't wait!**

 **Hasta la pasta! XD**


	39. Chapter 39: Blame Me

**I apologize for the wait, but I had a reason, I promise. I was without internet for awhile, I have AP Chemistry hell with some other hard classes (I'm a writer and history nerd, not math and science!), and also Nanowrimo.**

 **However, there's a chapter here now, and I think it's safe to say that the next wait won't be nearly so long.**

* * *

 **Chapter 39: Blame Me**

Haven couldn't believe that just days ago, she'd been looking forward to the Dueling Club. Of course it would end up being absolutely useless. Of course Winchester Luck would kick in and out her as a parseltongue in front of everyone. She hadn't even known she was one until everyone decided she was the root of all evil because of it. She'd still be clueless as to what exactly had happened without the others filling her in.

But now everyone was convinced _she_ was the Heir of Slytherin. Something about that burned. She could deal with not being trusted, but for them to accuse her of releasing the very monster she was trying to protect them from upon them was another thing entirely. Haven would _never_ set a monster on innocent people, even if those people hated her. She was the hero, not the villain.

Her frustration at the entire situation led her to walk through the halls of the school alone, her scowl coupled with the rumors enough to send the other students scurrying away on sight. There was one good thing about all of this; everyone left her alone.

The young Hunter's feet eventually led her into the library, likely due to the fact that she went there so often. She might as well live in the library with how often she frequented it.

However, once inside, she steered clear of her usual table, instead stalking through the aisles and scanning the titles available in some feeble hope that her answers would magically appear. They didn't, of course.

"-told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as her next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for awhile. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was muggle-born. Justin actually _told_ her he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about when Slytherin's heir is on the loose, is it?" she hears in the voice of one of the Hufflepuff boys, on the other side of one of the bookcases. Haven never could quite remember the name.

"You definitely think it _is_ Potter, then, Ernie?" asked a girl who obviously had doubts about it.

"Hannah, she's a parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark for a dark wizard." replied the pompous boy. Haven grit her teeth, her hands clenching at her sides. "Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue. Remember what was written on the wall? _Enemies of the heir, beware._ That first year, Creevey, was always following Potter around all of the time, annoying her. Then he's attacked. And now she's after Justin- I reckon Zacharias put her up to it, seems the type of thing he'd do."

Oh, that was _rich._ First she'd the heir, and now _Zacharias_ is a conspirator? Was that boy out of his _mind?_ She nearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity, might have if she wasn't so boiling angry.

The girl, Hannah, replied uncertainly, "But she's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. She can't be all bad, can she?"

"No one knows how she survived that attack by You-Know-Who." Ernie said in a hushed, dramatic whisper. "I mean to say, she was only a baby when it happened. She should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He obviously wasn't familiar with Winchester Luck, which could simultaneously find some impossible was to survive something nobody should be able to, and dunk you into the absolute worst situations. "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill her in the first place. Didn't want a Dark Lady competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

She really did begin to laugh at that, stalking into the open for the Hufflepuff's to see. They whirled around at the noise, each of them freezing at the sight of her. Ernie's face went white.

"There are _multiple_ flaws in your theory, Ernie, was it?" she commented, mock-casually, as she hopped onto their table, "One. Just because your tiny mind can't comprehend how someone can survive impossible things without the aid of evil doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Two. If I was going to go after someone who annoyed me, I would never send a _monster_ their way." the disgust dripped from her voice, "I'd walk right up to them and punch them in the face, much simpler that way, not to mention more satisfying. You seem to forget that I was raised as a muggle Hunter. I have nothing against muggles, or muggleborns. I've dedicated my life to protecting them. So I recommend you rethink your theory. I'm sure you can do better."

With that, she hopped down from the table and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks of the students around her. Haven wanted to hit something.

She kept going through the corridor, until she ran into Hagrid, who seemed to be carrying what looked like a dead rooster in his hands.

"All righ', Alex?" Hagrid asked, "Why aren't yeh in class?"

Haven replied, her tone somewhat snappish due to her anger, "It was cancelled. What's with the rooster?"

"Second one killed this term. It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop. Yeh she yeh're all righ'?" Hagrid said.

"Just some people being close-minded idiots," she muttered, before raising her voice to say, "But I'll be alright. I'd better get going. I have Transfiguration soon and I'll need my books."

With that she was off again, her pace brisk as she made her way up the stairs and turned another corridor. Haven frowned when she noticed how dark it was- the torches must have been extinguished by the wind blowing through a loose windowpane or something. It did feel remarkably colder- she pulled the scarf she wore further up her neck.

Haven continued on with a little more caution, but she still ended up tripping over something on the floor. Grumbling, she got to her feet and dusted herself off. She looked back, and her blood ran cold when she focused on what she'd tripped on.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was lying on the floor, completely rigid. The look of shock was frozen onto his face. And then, next to him was Nearly Headless Nick, black and smoky. He seemed to be petrified too, though how something like that happened to a ghost she had no idea.

She looked back at Justin, then to Nick, as a horrid realization set in. Haven was being set up, here. Whoever was behind this realized she was the suspect, and made a move to confirm her as the scapegoat, to keep suspicion off of them.

 _Damn it!_

Haven did not want to be caught here. She was nearby several classrooms- the students and teachers could come out any moment. She had begun to make a run for it when she saw the spiders. She came to a stop, remembering something about spiders. They appeared to be running as fast as they could away from the bodies.

What was the significance of spiders? They had to be important. Fleeing each of the crime scenes? Why? Was it because of the monster?

Haven jumped in surprise when a nearby door banged open, admitting Peeves. She hated Peeves. "Why, look at that! What has Potter been up to? Why is she lurking-" upside down, his eyes found the petrified bodies. And he smirked, right at her, and her blood ran cold.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTACK!" She cursed under her breath- too late now. The doors along the corridor flew open and then the corridor was full of people. In the confusion and jostling, she ended up against the wall, uncertain of what to do as the teachers shouted for order.

McGonagall was the one to silence everyone and order them to return to class. However, that only allowed everyone to hear when Ernie allowed on scene and announced dramatically, "Caught in the act!" His finger pointed straight at her, allowing everyone's gaze to find her.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall in a sharp voice.

Peeves floated over her, smirking at her plight. To add onto the existing chaos, he sang, "Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done! You're killing off students, you think it's good fun-"

"That's enough, Peeves!" ordered the Professor. Peeves didn't appear chastised, zooming away while sticking his tongue out at Haven tauntingly. She almost did it back, but the situation called for more seriousness than that and she still had to figure out how the hell she was getting out of it.

Thank you once again, Winchester Luck, for making her life much more complicated than it really had to be.

Haven watched, on pins and needles as she waited for someone to address her. First, Justin had to be carried up to the hospital wing, and then arrangements had to be made to move Nearly Headless Nick up to the Hospital Wing as well. The only plan that Professor McGonagall could come up with was to fan the ghost up the stairs, and instructed Ernie to do so. Ernie took the duty on solemnly, as if he was honoring a war hero, shooting dirty looks at Haven as he went.

When the crowd had dispersed, Professor McGonagall finally turned to her. Haven was nearly relieved that she wouldn't have to anxiously await a verdict much longer. "This way, Potter."

Haven nodded, not wanting to argue, "For the record, Professor, I didn't have anything to do with this."

"This matter is not in my hands." Professor McGonagall replied. Haven was unsure what she thought about the matter- her face was grave but unreadable beyond that. The Professor led her along a familiar trail; the one that would take them to the Headmaster's office, as Haven had guessed. She had to take several deep breaths, forcing a calm over herself. She could not afford her grudge against Dumbledore at the moment.

If only someone was with her! Neville, Michelangelo, Hermione, anyone! It would be easier to control herself that way.

Haven was told to enter his office. Inside, she noticed she was alone save for the phoenix. It gave her a moment to finish collecting herself, looking at the bird. He seemed to be on his Burning Day, or very close to it. It blinked at her slowly, making several gagging noises as feathers fell from its tail.

Then the bird burst into flames. She watched in fascination as it turned to a pile of ash on the floor. She hadn't ever thought she'd witness such an event.

The door opened, Dumbledore stepping in with a very grave expression on his face. Haven kept her gaze on the pile of ash on the ground, hoping that maybe if she didn't look at him too much she could keep her anger at bay. The ash turned into a small bird as she remained silent, waiting for the headmaster to speak.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day. He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage." _how very Gryffindor,_ Haven thought wryly as Dumbledore continued, "Fascinating creatures, phoenixes, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yeah." she replied, letting a little of her interest into her voice despite the situation. That's what he seemed to be aiming for- to make her more comfortable. "They're wonderful, from what I've read, at least." Haven made the mistake of glancing up, seeing Dumbledore's blue eyes staring at her, as if he was delving into the depths of her soul to discover the truth of recent events. She was quickly given the chance to look away as Hagrid burst in, the dead rooster still swinging in his hands.

"It wasn' Alex, Professor Dumbledore! I was talkin' ter her seconds before that kid was found, she never had time, sir-" Hagrid rambled desperately, waving the rooster around and sending the feathers flying about the room. Haven was touched at how frenzied he was about arguing her innocence. Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went on, "-it can't've bin her, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to-"

Dumbledore tiredly attempted to interject, "Hagrid, I-" but Hagrid didn't seem to hear him in his desperation. Haven was too amazed to do anything. She wasn't aware Hagrid had cared so much for her.

"-yeh've got the wrong girl, sir, I know Alex never-"

" _Hagrid."_ said Dumbledore, loud enough to stop Hagrid's rant in it's tracks, "I do not think that Alex attacked those people."

Hagrid blinked several times, and Haven did, too. She hated it when those she disliked were nice to her.

"Oh." said Hagrid, the rooster falling to his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."

Once Hagrid had left the office, Haven asked, "You really don't think it was me, Professor?" She couldn't help the little bit of doubt creeping into her voice. Things were never that easy for her.

"No, I don't. But I still want to talk to you." Dumbledore replied, brushing rooster feathers away from his work area. Haven went still. What did he want to talk about? Had he somehow discovered she was still in contact with the Winchesters?

Dumbledore continued in a gentle tone, "I must ask you whether there is anything you'd like to tell me. Anything at all." Haven schooled her expression into polite confusion, while inside her pulse was racing. Damn. Had he actually discovered she was still in contact with Sam? What would he do about it? Or did he not actually know, but suspect? Perhaps it was something else entirely; she didn't know. Such an open-ended question was designed to make the guilty heart confess to crimes that Dumbledore was already aware of, and also the ones he wasn't. It would be better to remain close-mouthed.

Slowly, she shook her head, "Not really, Professor. But you are trying your very best to figure out who is behind this? I know you are busy, but…"

"Of course. The safety of the students is my highest priority." said Dumbledore firmly.

"If that is all?" she asked. When he nodded to her, she quickly fled the office. She had to go find her friends and consider what she'd learned.

She had a feeling their best bet would be looking into those spiders.

* * *

 **Thank you for your time.**


	40. Chapter 40: Led Away

**Haha, those days where I updated promptly, they were good ones... I want them back. I'm sorry, I've been distracted by other stories that I couldn't stop writing, but finally I turned to this, I talked with my sister, we had new ideas, so then I had motivation. Yay! Thank you for waiting, and to everyone who has kept up with me (40 chapters in! Look at us!), you are awesome.**

* * *

 **Chapter 40: Led Away By Imperfect Impostors**

 **Blaise's POV**

Draco was lounged on one of the couches, absently playing with a snitch while Blaise had a table pulled up to his chair with several sheets of parchment in front of him. On one was the list of clues they had, on another the victims with their year and house and what happened to them, then the approximate dates and times they would have been attacked, theories on what weapon, potion, creature, or spell could have been used for the petrification, and on the last sheet was their list of subjects.

The only problem was that this sheet was completely blank.

"You could at least _try_ to help me, Draco." Blaise finally burst out, slamming his quill down on the table. He had been staring at the stupid pieces of parchment for hours without success.

Draco paused, turning his head to Blaise, "I have. Face it, Blaise, we're clueless at this point."

"Humor me." Blaise said, knowing Draco was right but not willing to give up after he'd spent so much time trying to figure this out, "Let's go through what we know again."

Draco sighed, but began to list off the victims, "Mrs. Norris on Halloween, outside the girl's bathroom. The message was left then. Then Colin Creevey, first year Gryffindor on November 8th. Then Sally-Anne Perks in late November, the 24th or 25th. She was the only one to disappear, the others were petrified. She was a second-year Ravenclaw. Lastly, Justin Finch-Fletchley, second-year Hufflepuff, and Nearly Headless Nick on December 18th."

"All of the students were young, first and second years." Blaise noted, "A Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, though if that was purposeful or not I don't know."

"Well, it is supposed to be the Heir of Slytherin. Makes since that everyone else is fair game." Draco grumbled.

Blaise sighed, tapping his quill on the table, "We've got the odd behavior of the spiders around each crime scene. We've got that dramatic message, labeling our Heir as a narcissist. No one has been abnormally visiting the crime scenes as we suspected, however, so I might be wrong on that one."

"Well, actually, didn't you say Lockhart was still doing that? Following all the mirrors around?" Draco asked offhandedly.

"Yes, but, I mean, it's Lockhart. But, like I was saying, the Heir is trying to keep fear alive in the student population, and it looks like they are currently using…" he paused, looking at Draco awkwardly, "uh, Alexandrite Potter as the scapegoat, which we can infer due to the attack on both Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. But this is all like a great big show. For all the bravado, no one has really been hurt that we've seen. Petrified, and one went missing, but it's all a show to drive up fear and suspense. 'All eyes on me', you know, but no one really knows where to look. Someone has to have a _huge_ sense of self-importance for something like this. This Heir… they are a showman, they are _used_ to doing things like this, I think…" a look of shock crossed his face, and he jerked to stare at Draco, who seemed to have come to the same realization he had.

At the same time, with looks of horror on their faces, they said, " _What if it really is Lockhart?"_

"It would make sense." Draco said, sitting up at attention. "He was the one following the mirrors. He's a showman. And he's smarter than he looks- he's managed to publish all of those books and he hasn't been caught at fraud yet. He's a half-blood, but that doesn't mean he can't be the Heir, still. No one really knows what happened to Salazar's line. Even our family trees stop with the Gaunts, who all died off. He might even be descended from a Squib of that line."

"He's also been saying that he only needs free reign, and he would be able to save us all from the Heir." Blaise replied, "Maybe that's the plan: to set up another monster for him to take down for his books! This is all a stage he's set up so he can play hero again!"

Draco stood up and began to pace, "What if he's done this before? Do you think we'll be able to find anything on that?"

"We can certainly try." Blaise replied, quickly scribbling Lockhart onto the list of subjects.

"Wait, Blaise." Draco suddenly said, "Do you think you are in danger? You told him you knew he was a fraud. What if he comes after you for that?"

Blaise… honestly hadn't considered that. Eventually, he shook his head, "No, no, he's only been going after muggle-borns- okay, and a ghost and cat. I'm a pureblood, I think he'll keep away from me."

"But what if he think you suspect him?" Draco demanded.

"Well… then we might have a problem." Blaise admitted. "There's not much we can do about that until we figure out how he's doing this and get evidence on him. I'm going to need to read all of his books again, there might be some clue that he's done this sort of thing before in them. Think you can help me?"

Draco gave him a dull look, "You know I hate those books. You are seriously asking me to read them again? Okay, fine. But only because this is important."

* * *

 **Haven's POV**

"So, do you think you're ready?" Haven asked, gently tapping Neville's shoulder. He looked up and tried to smile.

"Not really." Neville confessed, "I'm nervous."

Haven smiled and gave her best friend a half-hug, "That's okay. But this is it."

"This is it." Neville agreed. In a few minutes they would be leaving for Saint Mungo's. With luck, in a few hours Neville would have his parents back. The only obstacle was how they would give some of his blood to his parents without getting caught. Thinking ahead, they had already filled two vials with blood, but the rest of it would be to be figured out on the fly. Haven figured she could always distract the other occupants of the room if need be.

"Are you ready?" called the voice of Neville's grandmother as she stepped into the room, wrapping a shawl around herself in anticipation of the cold. There was to be snow, so Haven had brought one of her thickest jackets, one of the ones she had bought once she realized she had the money to do it, now.

Neville nodded, too nervous to speak, and Haven said, "Yes, ma'am." With that, they set off.

The hospital was like any other that Haven had visited before, only the patients injuries were much stranger. She supposed that was to be expected when one was dealing with magical injuries. The receptionist seemed to recognize Neville and his grandmother, and they of course knew the day by heard. There was something sad about that, Haven thought.

"What are you so fidgety about, Neville?" his grandmother asked as they arrived at the ward and Neville's nervousness became more obvious.

Neville started, and seemed at a loss for words, so Haven, with a stroke of genius, said, "Well, he had something special prepared for them, you see. He worked so hard on it, and he's just a bit nervous about how it turned out… but it is something of a secret, so do you think we could get a few moments alone with them? It is nothing dangerous at all, I swear." Neville's startled gaze looked to her.

"I suppose. Just don't be long. We'll have to ask the Healer if it's allowed." Augusta finally replied after a few moments of pursed lips and silence.

"That was _brilliant."_ Neville breathed as they stepped inside. Haven grinned, pleased that the snag in her plan had been addressed and she had also calmed Neville down a little in the process.

Frank and Alice were farther in the room. Both looked older than they should, Haven thought, and she felt a bit of her friends pain looking at them. Frank was just staring at the wall, and Alice was humming absently to herself, swaying to the beat of it. The Healer was there, who Augusta went to talk to as Neville approached his parents.

Alice stopped humming and smiled when she saw him, though it was something distant and childlike.

"Hello, mum." Neville said quietly, "We came to see you for Christmas. This is my friend, Haven." He gestured to Haven, who had stayed a little back but came a little closer at Neville's beckoning. Neville's mother didn't look at her, though, instead reaching to the bedside table and picking up a gum wrapper, and then presented it to Neville.

His smile fell and his fist clenched over it. "Thank you."

"We'll give you a few minutes, but be quick about it, whatever it is." Augusta interrupted from across the room by the door. Haven breathed a sigh of relief that it had worked, and that the Healer had deemed it safe.

They were then left alone apart from the other patients in the room, one of which was asleep and the other not paying any attention at all.

"So, what's the plan?" Haven asked Neville quietly as she pulled out the two vials they'd brought. She thought fleetingly that it was a bit disturbing for her to be carrying her best friend's blood around in vials but then again she'd done stranger.

Neville bit his lip, taking one of the vials, and said, "I'm not totally sure. I thought it might work like it does with the plants, where it just absorbs through touch." Haven shrugged, and motioned for him to proceed.

Neville uncapped one of the vials, and said, "Mum, this might be a bit strange, but we think it will help you. Okay?" His mother didn't respond, but stood there without moving as Neville allowed a drop to fall on her still-outstretched hand. Within moments in had absorbed into her skin, the paleness of it fading away a little and a little color being restored to her cheeks in moments.

"I think it's working!" Haven whispered excitedly, "Try your father."

Neville, looking just as excited as she did, made his way to his father and tried a few drops on him. Frank did not react at all, but like Alice color came back into his cheeks and even his hair a little, which had been white and limp. Neville's hand shook as he replaced the cap on the vial and stepped back.

His voice shook as he said, "Mum? Dad? It's me, Neville. Did it work?"

They waited for a few moments, but there was nothing but Alice's absent smiles and Frank's staring.

"It might take longer for that, Neville. Wait a bit." Haven said, worry beginning to set in but hope still the main emotion.

They waited. Nothing.

The adults came back in. Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

 _Nothing._

* * *

 **I'm sorry?**


	41. Chapter 41: I Never Meant

**I have an announcement, my humans. I plan to rewrite this story, from start to finish, since I've improved and seen many ways in which I can make it better. However, I first plan to finish second year (even if it takes a bit since I'm slow), and I will keep this as the original version up, because I couldn't bear to take it down. It's a nice way to watch how I have grown, and it's close to my heart since I've spent a lot of tears and hard work on this. I'll inform you as soon as I have the new, revised version up.**

* * *

 **Chapter 41: I Never Meant To Make You Bleed**

 **Zacharias's POV**

Why had it become a trend for Alexandrite and Neville's moods to take a nosedive after Christmas break? Not only that, but why did they never _tell_ anyone what was wrong? Zacharias did not like being left in the dark. He already had a tendency to worry too much- he would never admit that as long as he lived- but when he didn't know what was wrong he tended to spend many sleepless nights overthinking the issue.

He couldn't help but think that he had somehow proven himself untrustworthy. Zacharias tried not to think it; he knew that Alexandrite and Neville had a special bond that he couldn't quite grasp. It probably wasn't a slight against him. However, that didn't mean he didn't feel like it was.

With Neville and Alexandrite so down, the entire group felt the effects. Breakfast on the morning of the 7th was especially somber with no Fred, George, and Michelangelo to attempt to bring up the mood. No one had much to say.

Until Luna looked up at the ceiling with a strange (was she actually sad?) expression on her face, "He's been claimed."

"What?" asked Hermione.

"The flower has chosen him… thus the flower shall grow while the garden suffers… and the answers are locked in stone." Luna muttered, not seeming to register the rest of them. Curse the first-year and her metaphors. Couldn't she just speak plain English that they could all understand? Michelangelo was spoiling her by learning to translate her words.

Luna closed her eyes and gave up on her plate. Nothing anyone said would illicit a response.

Zacharias finally huffed, "Where's Michelangelo? He's the only one who can ever do anything about this." He waved an impatient hand towards the unresponsive girl.

"He's gone."

The hollow voice that Zacharias could hardly believe was Fred came from behind them. They all turned to see the twins standing behind Neville with stricken expressions.

"What do you mean he's gone?" Alexandrite asked with a voice that was surprisingly steady for the way her expression had dropped. She stood up, ready to take immediate action, and Neville stood with her immediately without seeming to think of it. Zacharias swore they had to have some sort of telepathic bond going on for the way they did things like that.

Fred and George exchanged a look, before George said, "He's not in Hogwarts, or on the grounds. Anywhere. We think… we think he's been taken."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked, with only slight suspicion. Fred and George exchanged another look.

"We'll tell you. Just not here. Come on." Fred replied. The entire group got up to follow, surprisingly Luna too. Zacharias had thought she'd completely shut down on them.

Wait. Luna had shut down, and Michelangelo was missing. Did that mean she had known? How? Zacharias resolved to ask her about it later.

The group found an empty classroom and gathered around Fred and George. George reached into his pocket, and drew out… a piece of parchment?

"This is the Marauder's Map." George announced as he began to unfold the parchment, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." That was completely random. Only, as soon as he'd said those words, ink bloomed onto the parchment. It was, as they said, a map. Of Hogwarts, which should be impossible.

"It tells you where everyone is. Only, Michelangelo hasn't been on here at all this morning." Fred explained, pointing the Great Hall. It was full of dots, labeled with different names. And they moved. It didn't take long for Zacharias to locate the room they were in, and the dots that labeled them.

No wonder Fred and George always seemed to know where they were.

"So what do we do?" Neville asked quietly. No one seemed to know. However… Zacharias scanned the map, and found the names he was looking for. He knew two people who might. His eyes traced a path to both of them- they were separated. After only a moment, he decided to make his way to the closest one first, and then, depending on what he found out, he could go to the other. He didn't have much time before classes started, so he would need to be quick. He imagined being late to class with the climate being what it was would cause panic, even if it was only him.

Commiting the direction to memory, he looked to the others and said, "There's someone I need to talk to. We can talk about _this,"_ he pointed to the map with a glare at the twins, who both became sheepish under his eyes, "later." With that he quickly left the room and rushed down the halls. He didn't have too much time to speak with them before classes began, but he'd at least like to do something if Michelangelo really was in danger. The boy had grown on him a little. Besides, it wasn't like anyone else could decode Lovegood.

His steps were quick and purposeful, creating a steady rhythm against the stone. He focused on the sound, on the beat. _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._ The beat abruptly stopped as he caught sight of something bright yellow. On further inspection, it was a yellow flower.

Where had he seen one of these before…? His fingers tightened about the stem as he looked up. He was getting a really bad feeling about this. Something was wrong. Unease settled into his stomach.

Zacharias was more cautious as he proceeded, holding the flower to his chest. It was silent in the corridor. When he looked up, he could see one of the mirrors that the Extra had been setting up through the halls. He was beginning to feel he shouldn't have come alone. His mouth felt dry.

He could hear his heartbeat like a drum as he rounded the corner. At first he was relieved to see the Extra up ahead, despite the fact that it was the Extra. But…

The Extra wasn't moving. He didn't react. He just stood there, as still as a statue, looking up with an expression that could only be horror on his face.

He'd been petrified.

… _and the answers are locked in stone._

* * *

 **Draco's POV**

Classes had been cancelled. Blaise had been moved to the Hospital Wing. Michelange- Dean Thomas had been found to be missing when the teachers did a count of students.

All Draco felt was hollow as he sat amidst the chaos of the Slytherin Common Room.

" _We were supposed to be safe!"_

This was Draco's fault.

" _But, but purebloods aren't supposed to be targeted! Why was he petrified? What's going on?!"_

He shouldn't have suggested they look into it. Blaise had been at the mirrors when he'd been… Blaise, who was a pureblood, who should have been safe, was in the Hospital Wing. He wasn't missing, he wasn't dead, which was something.

Dean Thomas was, though. Even if they were no longer friends- Thomas had renounced him quickly after the incident with Neville and Potter- Draco couldn't help but feel he had failed him. He had access to the most information about the Heir.

"I think there must have been some sort of mistake." Pansy Parkinson announced. There was a quiver to her voice, but she sat up straight. "Maybe the Heir knew something. They wouldn't have gone for a pureblood. Right? Zabini has to be hiding something."

"He wasn't!" Draco snapped, shooting to his feet. His fists clenched and unclenched. He suddenly felt trapped. The Common Room was too small, but they couldn't leave it yet given the disappearance and petrification. He considered making a run for it anyway.

Pansy sniffed, "How would you know? What other explanation is there?"

"Maybe it would be best that we don't turn on our own so quickly." the smooth, calm voice of Daphne Greengrass interjected before he could yell something he would later come to regret. "We do not have enough information to make assumptions, after all."

Greengrass was one of the few who seemed absolutely serene in the entire room. Even the older years seemed shaken, but not Greengrass. She sat in the middle of the room, her hands carefully folded on her lap, while the world went into chaos around her.

Pansy turned on her heel, allowing her long hair to fan prettily out behind her as she retreated back to her seat, surrounded by her friends.

Greengrass, meanwhile, stood up and came to take her seat beside Draco with her usual grace. He glanced over to her, wondering what she wanted. He didn't know too much about her. His mother liked her, but he'd never formed much of an opinion beyond indifference.

"It was my understanding that you and Zabini were rather close." Greengrass said after a period of long silence, "I am not so certain on your relationship with Thomas. I myself have never had a friend in danger like this, so I fear I am uncertain what to say. I imagine words would not have helped had my sister been petrified."

Draco glanced at the blonde girl at his side. He didn't reply, wondering if she had more to say. The girl had taken a book from her bag, but did not seem to have more than a vague interest in it.

At last, he sighed. "Is there any reason for talking to me, or are you just trying to give some sort of polite condolences? He's not dead. I don't need condolences."

"Of course." Daphne Greengrass replied, her grey eyes looking up from her book to regard him. "I only thought you might appreciate company for a time. If I was mistaken, I will find somewhere else to sit."

He bit his lip. Draco thought about asking her to leave him alone, but without Blaise… he had no one. There was Neville, but Neville was a Gryffindor and thus inaccessible until they were allowed out of their Common Rooms.

"Well, I was wondering if you would help me with our Potions essay?" Daphne asked after giving him several moments to consider. "You are much better than I am in that class." From what he had observed, she was not struggling in the class at all, but thought it best to go with it.

In answer, Draco brought out his own books, and his half-done essay and they got to work.

* * *

 **It was short, but dramatic. I had so much trouble with what to do for the second half. It was a struggle, but at last I've done it.**


End file.
